The Creation of a Bionic Man
by InvisibleBallerina
Summary: There are conflicting versions of the story about Steve Austin's transformation into a bionic man. The book has one story. The pilot movie has another. I wanted to write a version that explores the emotional journey of such a transformation. This is a work in progress.
1. The Project

"This is incredible." Oscar Goldman thumbed through the material in the folder he was holding. "Are there any prototypes of the parts that I could examine?"

"No, it's only on paper. He hasn't received any funding to move forward with it. In fact, this is the first time he's allowed the project to be shown. Now I didn't tell him I was taking it to the Office of Scientific Intelligence, but he trusts me and I think your organization is the one that could make this happen. The project would be experimental, of course, but the science is solid. I've looked it over myself."

Oscar Goldman trusted Dr. Wilkinson's judgment. They had worked together on other projects and Oscar knew that Wilkinson wouldn't bring him anything that he didn't believe in himself. The project was the most exciting idea Oscar had seen in years.

"What did you say this doctor's name was again?"

"Dr. Rudy Wells," replied Wilkinson.

"What kind of doctor is he?"

"He's a flight surgeon. He's been assigned to a NASA test pilot for the last three years."

"Flight surgeon?" Oscar looked askance. "Sounds like a cushy job. I thought you were talking about a research scientist."

"It was actually a really smart career choice for Dr. Wells. He tried being a general practitioner once and hated it. Now, he's only responsible for the health of one person. That gives him a lot of time to do research that interests him without being required to work on other projects assigned to him by some research lab. Don't let his current occupation fool you, Mr. Goldman. Rudy Wells has a brilliant mind. I've known him for years."

"Well, I guess, looking on the bright side of things, it would be fairly easy for NASA to replace him once we were ready to move forward with the project."


	2. Funding and Specifications

Note: This chapter was modified a bit on 11/3/19 due to feedback I received from a reader.

* * *

Oscar Goldman nervously paced the hallway of the Hart Building. The Senate Appropriations Committee was meeting behind closed doors today. He looked at his watch. They had been in there for almost two hours already. The waiting was killing him.

Finally, the giant doors opened and a group of approximately twenty men and women streamed out. Last out was Senator Ed Hill.

"Well, I had to do a bit of wrangling but they approved it," the Senator said with a big smile on his face. "Oscar, you've got your six million dollars."

Oscar grinned from ear to ear. "Senator, how can I ever thank you?"

"By spending it wisely, as I know you'll do."

* * *

Oscar stood at the end of the long conference table holding a stack of identical folders. He handed the stack to the man on his left. "Gentlemen, please take one and pass the stack to the next person."

Oscar sat down and waited until everyone had a copy.

"Okay, let's get started." He opened up his copy. "You'll notice on the first page the specifications that we require. In order to make this project work the way we need it to work, we will need two requirements from it: strength and speed. This means that the subject will need to have both legs and at least one arm replaced."

"Why not both arms?" a man with grey hair asked.

"Two arms are not needed, although we would not turn down the right candidate if that was necessary. No, one arm will be enough."

"What if one of the legs was just missing a foot?" asked another man wearing a blue jacket.

"That's not enough limb loss for our needs. The subject will have anywhere from seventy-five to one hundred percent of each limb replaced. To ask someone who only lost a foot to lose up to seventy-five percent of his limb would be unconscionable. No, we're looking for at least fifty percent limb loss."

Oscar turned the page. "The subject must be male between the age of twenty-five and thirty-five, unmarried and romantically unattached, with no children and, ideally, no other close living relatives, but we may have to compromise a bit on that."

"Why not younger?" asked the grey-haired man. "Wouldn't a younger man give you more years for your money?"

"Good point," Oscar replied. "But a younger man wouldn't have the experience requirements that we need. We'll read about that on the following page."

Oscar continued. "The subject must be in excellent health and physical conditioning. Must have no psychiatric disorders, no criminal record, and must have at least above-average intelligence. We're also looking for someone who has lost his limbs within the past three years."

"Why within three years?" asked a young man in a white shirt.

"Well, I'm not a scientist but it has to do with the viability of the nerves in the stumps."

Oscar turned the page. "Because of the nature of our missions, we need someone with an intelligence, military, or law enforcement background. And because we are also a scientific agency, we are looking for someone with a strong scientific aptitude."

"Sir," the young man in the white shirt spoke up. "This is going to be like looking for a needle in haystack."

"Yes, Dan, but we only get one shot at this. Those six million dollars have to be spent on the right man. We can't afford to get it wrong."


	3. The Perfect Candidate

Note: This chapter was modified a bit on 11/3/19 due to feedback I received from a reader.

* * *

Oscar sighed as he put down the last dossier of the top dozen candidates. None of them fit the requirements exactly, although they came close. It had been nine months since they had begun their search for the perfect candidate. They had scoured every VA hospital in the country, checked intelligence hospitals, ran computer searches, and still they were no closer to finding their man.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in!"

A young man with a white shirt entered. "Sorry to disturb you, sir, but I think you'll want to hear this."

"What is it, Dan?"

"I think I've found our man."

"Who is it?"

"There was a crash at Edwards Air Force Base yesterday. A bad one. The pilot is in serious condition from my reports."

"A jet jockey! Are you kidding me? All I need is some hot shot pilot, that obviously doesn't know how fly, on my hands!"

"Sir, please hear me out. He's more than just a pilot." Dan handed Oscar a dossier. "His name is Colonel Steven Austin."

"Austin, Austin…why does that name sound familiar? Wait, the astronaut?"

"Yes, sir. Just look at his profile. I think he'd be perfect." Dan excitedly started listing off the astronaut's resume. "He learned to fly a plane at fifteen and joined the Army ROTC while in high school to earn money for college. He went to MIT and graduated with masters in aerodynamics and aeronautical engineering, geology, and history and cultural studies."

"Three masters?" Oscar sat up straight.

"Yes, in six years, while also playing college football. The pros tried to recruit him but after college he flew a helicopter gunship in Vietnam for a year instead. He broke some ribs when his chopper was shot down and was sent home to recuperate. After he recovered, he transferred to the Air Force and became one of their top test pilots while also rising through the ranks to Colonel. Then NASA recruited him and he became the youngest man to ever walk on the moon. The accident yesterday? He wasn't flying a jet. He was testing a lifting body for NASA. Sir, you _know_ what kind of medical and psychological exams and training NASA puts their astronauts through."

"Yes, I do. What about family?"

"He was married briefly right out of college and has one son, Michael. The child was born while he was serving in Vietnam and his wife never told him about the boy. She filed for divorce while he was serving. She retained custody of the boy until her death by pneumonia when he was six years old. That's when Colonel Austin found out he had a son. He then sent his son to live with his sister-in-law in Seattle. He's never met the boy and has no contact with him. He has a mother living in Ojai, California, and a step-father. His biological father passed when he was two. He's also not in a romantic relationship right now."

"Hmm…that's workable. What is his condition exactly?"

"The information I'm getting is sketchy. I've heard that it was touch and go for a while there. The doctors almost lost him. He damaged or lost some limbs, but I don't know which ones. I wish I had better details for you."

"His background is so perfect I'm tempted to chop off a limb or two if needed," Oscar joked. "How old is he?"

"He's thirty-two. There's one other thing, sir."

"What's that, Dan?"

"His flight surgeon is Dr. Rudy Wells."

Oscar's jaw dropped open. He quickly pushed a button on his phone. "Ms. Pryor, get me a flight to Edwards Air Force base this afternoon."


	4. Edwards Air Force Base

Jay Rogers slid open the enormous door of the hanger at the NASA Flight Research Center. "Right this way, Mr. Goldman."

Oscar walked in and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the twisted wreckage of the HL10. "My god," he whispered.

"Hard to believe someone could have survived that. Isn't it?" observed Jay.

Oscar walked around the wreckage, examining it closely. "Do you know what caused the crash?"

"Not yet. It may take my team months before we figure that out."

"Do you think it could have been pilot error?"

"Not likely. Steve is the best of the best. I'd be shocked if it was."

"Mr. Rogers, I'd appreciate a copy of your final report when it's available."

"Of course, sir." Jay gestured toward a projector and screen set up on the side. "If you'll follow me, I have the footage you requested."

Jay turned on the projector and the screen came to life with images of the HL10 flipping over and over and over again until it came to a dead stop.

Oscar stared at the screen in silence. All these months it had been easy for him to rationalize the altruistic benefits of this project – giving a man a second chance at life and making him better than before – but seeing the wreckage and watching the crash footage sunk home how much that man had to sacrifice to get that second chance. It was a sobering thought.

* * *

From high in the surgical observation room, Oscar combed through Steve Austin's dossier. He pulled out three pictures that were in the file. One picture showed Steve in his space suit, a helmet carried under his arm. Another picture showed Steve in his Air Force dress blues. The third picture showed him in street clothes.

Oscar compared this last picture to the figure lying motionless on the surgical table below him. It was hard to believe he was the same man. The picture showed a handsome, robust man in the prime of his life. The figure below him had his head and left eye bandaged. In his mouth was a breathing tube hooked up to a ventilator. His body was covered with a sheet tented over him. Only his head was exposed. Bruises could be seen on his face. And electrodes were attached to his forehead.

On the plane trip over, Oscar had read Steve Austin's entire dossier – his NASA medical and psych evaluations, his college transcripts and report, his Army and Air Force records, clippings of newspaper articles about him, pictures of family members. Everything that was Steve Austin was in that file. The more Oscar read, the more he was convinced that Steve was the perfect candidate. The only question left was the extent of his physical injuries.

Oscar didn't have long to wait. A doctor opened the door and came in.

"Mr. Goldman, I didn't realize that you were here or I would have greeted you earlier. I'm Dr. Ashburn."

"Pleased to meet you." Oscar shook his hand and nodded toward another doctor hovering around the patient and constantly checking instruments. "Who may I ask is that?"

"That's Dr. Wells."

Oscar had suspected that but could only see the top of the doctor's head from his high perch.

"How can we help you, Mr. Goldman?"

"Yes, I'd like to know the condition of the patient."

"You'll need to discuss that with Dr. Wells. Please follow me."

Oscar followed Dr. Ashburn down to the operating room.

"Rudy, I'd like you to meet Mr. Goldman from the Office of Scientific Intelligence."

The two men shook hands and exchanged greetings.

Oscar noticed how tired Rudy looked...discerning that he probably hadn't gotten much sleep since the accident.

"Mr. Goldman is interested in finding out the condition of Colonel Austin."

Rudy raised his eyebrows. "Mr. Goldman, can I ask what your interest is in my patient?"

Oscar smiled. "Well, how about you answer my question first, then I'll answer yours."

Rudy chuckled. "I'm sorry but doctor-patient confidentiality does not allow me to disclose that information unless you're a close relative."

"Its okay, Dr. Wells, I have security clearance."

"If you haven't noticed, Mr. Goldman, this is a hospital, not an intelligence briefing room. Your security clearance means nothing to me."

Oscar sighed and pulled out Steve's NASA medical and psychological records from his file and handed it to Rudy.

Rudy couldn't hide his surprise. "Where did you get this?"

"From your employers. Like I said, I have security clearance. Now, doctor, we can do this the easy way and you can cooperate with me or we can do it the hard way and I'll talk to your superiors at NASA. Which will it be?"

Rudy eyed Oscar suspiciously. "Hold on. I'll be right back." Rudy walked over to the wall phone and made a call.

Oscar couldn't hear what was being said but he had a really good idea who the call was to and what was being discussed.

"Are you serious?" Rudy's voice rose in volume. A minute later Rudy hung up the phone.

"Well, Mr. Goldman, against my better judgment, it looks like I'm supposed to give you my cooperation."

"Glad to hear it," Oscar said as he walked over to the surgical table and looked down at an unconscious Steve Austin. "Now, what's his condition?"

Rudy huffed and walked over to the other side of the table. "Well, his right arm is missing. It was completely ripped off in the crash. And there is some injury to the spinal column. If the main nerves are affected, he may not be able to use his remaining arm. His legs were badly crushed and we had to amputate them."

"How much of his legs did you amputate?"

Rudy thought that was an odd question, but he answered it. "Both legs were amputated right above the knee."

Oscar didn't show it but he was smiling inside. He had found his man!

Rudy continued. "He's lost his left eye, several ribs were crushed and he has a large laceration on his right side. He has a skull fracture and a concussion. There's been some damage to the heart-valve structure. He has a pelvic fracture. We suspect there may be some internal bleeding. And he has some minor burns and contusions."

"The accident happened two days ago; shouldn't he be awake by now?"

"No, we're keeping him unconscious." Rudy pointed to Steve's forehead. "See those electrodes attached to his head? The wires you see attached to them run over to this machine." Rudy put his hand on a small machine sitting on a cart. "This is an electro-sleep machine. We got the technology from the Russians. It generates an electronic pulse directly to the skull that matches the brain's alpha rhythm. As long as the current is maintained, he will remain unconscious and won't feel any pain. And he won't have to deal with the side effects of anesthesia or sedatives. This is a much safer solution for longer-term needs."

"I see. Is he going to live?"

"Yes," Rudy replied soberly. "He still has quite a few surgeries ahead of him to fix all the damage, but he will live."

"You don't sound pleased," observed Oscar.

Rudy sighed. "I've known this man for a long time." Rudy shook his head. "He's not going to want to live like this."

Oscar glanced around the room and noticed that they were alone, save for an unconscious Steve. Oscar looked Rudy straight in the eyes. "Then give him a chance to live better than he was before. As director of the OSI, I'm offering you all the funding you need to turn Steve Austin into a bionic man."

"What? How do you know about my research?"

"A mutual acquaintance of ours, Dr. Wilkinson, brought your research to me a year ago."

Rudy was dumbfounded. Dr. Wilkinson had told Rudy that he wanted to show the bionic research to a few of his contacts, but Rudy never dreamed that one of them would be the OSI. The mistrust and suspicion that he had for Oscar began to melt away. If Dr. Wilkinson trusted Oscar with his research, well, that said a lot about the type of man Oscar was.

Rudy hesitated. "I'm flattered by your offer. It's something I've dreamed about for years." Rudy looked down at Steve. "I'm just not sure how he is going to react."

"Well, as his doctor, you're the one making all his medical decisions right now since he, obviously, can't make those decisions for himself."

"It's one thing to make medical decisions to save his life. It's another thing entirely to make the decision to give him bionic parts. The whole thing is highly experimental. It should work but I can't guarantee him that it will. What if it doesn't work? What will that do to him?"

"Then he'll be no worse off than he is now," Oscar replied. "Doctor, we can't wait for him to give us his consent. Preparations and the groundwork have to be laid now. Let's concentrate on those and worry about getting his permission later. Now, I'm taking a risk here by spending the money to get this project up and running before I have his cooperation, but I'm willing to risk it. Are you willing to risk it too?"

"It is the only chance he's got, isn't it?" Rudy sighed. "Okay, I'm in."

Oscar smiled. "Welcome to the OSI, Dr. Wells. A plane will be transporting Colonel Austin to our research facility in Colorado Springs in the morning. You need to be on that plane and if there is any medical staff here that you want on your team, you will need to make sure they are on that plane too."

"Tomorrow? Wait, do you realize the preparation involved in air transporting someone in Steve's condition? I need more time."

"Don't worry about it, doctor. I have a special medical plane that is fully outfitted with everything you'll need, including staff. But you might want to bring that little machine with you." Oscar pointed to the electro-sleep machine.

Oscar patted Rudy on the shoulder. "Get some rest tonight, doctor; you've got a busy day ahead of you tomorrow."


	5. Precious Cargo

Rudy Wells was a bundle of nerves as the medical plane team moved Steve Austin to the waiting aircraft. "Careful. Easy now. Take it nice and slow," Rudy kept repeating as he walked alongside the gurney carrying the injured astronaut.

Steve was hooked up to a portable ventilator for the move to the plane. Rudy had decided to remove the large tube from Steve's trachea and go with nasotracheal intubation for the trip to Colorado. But Steve had to be disconnected from the electro-sleep machine until he reached the plane. Rudy prayed that Steve wouldn't wake up before he was able to hook him back up to the machine.

Walking next to Rudy was Carla Peterson, a young nurse with a top-notch reputation who had impressed Rudy so much that he asked her to join his team. He was delighted when she agreed to follow him to a new job halfway across the country. She brought a mixture of highly-skilled professionalism and compassion to her job and had worked tirelessly alongside Rudy in caring for Steve these past few days. Rudy knew she would make an excellent head nurse.

It felt like it took forever to cross the tarmac but they finally reached the massive B-52 that would take them to Colorado. The plane was outfitted with a special room inside that looked almost like a typical operating room, except that the room was much smaller and everything was bolted down. The room was insulated so that sounds and vibrations from the plane wouldn't penetrate the walls and disturb the fragile cargo it was assigned to carry.

Oscar Goldman was already on the plane. He watched as the gurney carrying Steve was carefully moved into the room and then clamped to the floor. The medical team moved with efficiency as they changed out the portable ventilator for the larger one in the room. Electrodes were placed on Steve's body and hooked up to machines that would monitor all of his vital signs.

Oscar gave the word to the pilot and the plane started taxiing down the runway. The medical team had barely finished with Steve when the fasten seatbelt light came on. There were only a few seats in the special room, which Rudy, Carla, and the plane's lead doctor, Dr. Moy, buckled themselves into. Everyone else took a seat outside of the room. The massive engines roared and they could feel the vibrations as the plane gained speed for the takeoff.

"I'm afraid that some takeoff and landing sounds and vibrations penetrate this room even with all the insulation," explained Dr. Moy. "But once we're in the air, this room is very quiet and comfortable for patients."

Rudy hadn't had time to hook Steve back up to the electro-sleep machine and he was worried that the noise and vibrations of the plane would wake him up. His fears came true when he heard a soft moan.

Rudy started to unbuckle his seatbelt but Dr. Moy put out his hand and stopped him. "Not until the seatbelt light goes off."

"He's starting to wake up!" Rudy protested.

"But he's not in any immediate danger. Look at the readouts," replied Dr. Moy.

"But.."

"Those are the rules, Doctor."

Rudy felt helpless as he heard another moan from Steve.

The plane gathered more speed and then they were in the air. The massive wings lifted the plane higher and higher.

Steve's moans were getting more frequent.

"How long before the seatbelt lights go off?" Rudy asked anxiously.

"Not until we reach cruising altitude," replied Dr. Moy. "That could be another twenty minutes or so." Dr. Moy patted Rudy's knee. "Try to relax, Doctor. The readouts are still normal."

Steve moaned even louder. Rudy turned pale. Carla was getting fidgety too.

"You've known him a long time?" Dr. Moy asked sympathetically.

"Yes, I've been his personal physician for three years."

"He must be a very special man."

"He is."

Rudy thought back to when he first met Steve Austin. Steve's reputation as one of the Air Force's top test pilots had preceded him. Rudy knew the type – cocky and brash. Steve had breezed through the two-year NASA astronaut training program and was considered to be one of their top candidates for the next moon shot. But, Steve had completely surprised Rudy. He was a polite, soft-spoken, and cool-headed, yet energetic, young man with an easygoing sense of humor. Steve had an incredibly sharp mind, an athlete's physique, and movie-star good looks, but none of that seemed to affect him. He was modest to a fault and never took himself too seriously; but he also had unwavering integrity and wouldn't compromise if his values were challenged. The more Rudy had gotten to know Steve, the more he liked him.

This accident tore Rudy up inside. Life wasn't always fair and it had dealt a devastating blow to this exceptional man. But life also has strange twists and turns. And, now, Rudy had been handed an amazing opportunity to make Steve whole again. Rudy was determined to do everything in his power to help Steve function like a normal person again. He didn't really care about the extraordinary abilities that bionics would give Steve if this experiment was successful. He just wanted to see Steve be able to walk again, to have two arms to grasp things with, and two eyes to see with in order to do the normal everyday tasks that we all take for granted.

Steve's moans shook Rudy out of his thoughts. Twenty minutes had passed and those damn seatbelt lights were still on.

"Dr. Wells, Sparine?" Carla asked.

"Yes, 50 milligrams," Rudy replied. He was impressed with this young nurse. She was thinking ahead.

"Do you have it, Dr. Moy?" Rudy asked.

"Yes, that cabinet over there." Dr. Moy replied as he pointed to a cabinet against the wall on the right.

"Syringes? Cotton balls? Alcohol?" Carla asked him.

"All in those drawers under the cabinet," replied Dr. Moy.

And then the seatbelt light went off and they were out of their seats in a flash, Carla gathering the needed supplies and Rudy checking on Steve.

There was so much pain in that one blue eye and then it shut and Steve grimaced and moaned.

"Steve, it's Rudy."

The blue eye opened and looked at Rudy, imploring him to help him.

"Hang in there, Steve. Just a minute longer," Rudy said soothingly. "Hang in there."

Carla handed Rudy the alcohol and cotton ball. Rudy quickly cleansed a spot on Steve's left bicep, then took the hypodermic needle from Carla and plunged it into Steve's arm. Within seconds there was relief in that blue eye and then it closed and Steve was unconscious.

Rudy let out a breath, relieved.

Carla was already starting to attach the electrodes from the electro-sleep machine to Steve's forehead. When she was done, Rudy turned on the machine and adjusted the controls.

Steve would now sleep for the rest of the trip.


	6. Colorado Springs

Note: This chapter was revised on 12/8/19.

* * *

It was late when Rudy Wells sank into the soft cushion of the chair in Steve's room and let out a breath. God was he tired. It had been a week since they arrived at the OSI Colorado Springs facility – a week of sheer overwhelm.

Rudy really hadn't known what to expect when he got here but was pleasantly surprised to find a modern, fully-staffed hospital on the grounds. It was a hospital that the OSI ran for members of the intelligence community – a place where they wouldn't have to worry about accidentally spilling any government secrets while they were under the influence of narcotics and where operatives could stay safe while they healed. Everyone on staff, from doctors to janitors, had a security clearance.

But even with that, Oscar had required still tighter security for Steve, for Steve wasn't the typical operative patient. He was a top secret government medical project. And it was Oscar's goal to keep the number of people that knew about the project to the bare minimum. From the time Steve had left the hospital at Edwards Air Force Base up to when they got him settled into his hospital room here in Colorado Springs, they had kept the tenting over Steve to hide his missing limbs. Oscar had allowed only two nurses and two orderlies from the staff to help Carla. A guard was posted outside of Steve's room round the clock with strict orders to only let in approved staff. A sign was posted on the door: "Authorized Staff Only." And everyone involved in the project received a level six security clearance.

After getting Steve settled into his room that first day, Rudy had been given a tour of the facilities by Oscar. The complex was located about seventeen miles north of Colorado Springs, just north of the Air Force Academy, and it had stunning views of the Rockies.

The entire complex astounded Rudy. It was enormous.

The hospital was in one wing of the largest building. That's where Steve's room was located. Oscar had taken Rudy to another wing of the building and showed him an entire empty second floor that was going to be Rudy's new lab. It was a blank canvas that Rudy would get to design himself.

Besides the hospital, several large buildings were on the grounds. Many of them were off limits. They had their own secret projects in development. Nearby was a large cafeteria that was open 24/7, a small hotel, a library, computer center, gymnasium, Olympic-sized pool, tennis courts, a handball court, racquetball court, basketball court, sports fields, and a running track. Oscar had an office here at the complex too.

A pool of golf carts was available to staff to get around the complex and Oscar grabbed one to show Rudy the grounds. Rudy was amazed to find out that the grounds went on for miles and miles and there were many areas that were quite remote and secluded. It was a beautiful location with thick groves of trees, meadows dotted with wildflowers, and meandering streams. Safeguarding the entire complex were guards and a security system that was damn near impossible to penetrate.

After showing Rudy the grounds, Oscar took him to a last group of buildings that were apartments and showed him the one-bedroom apartment that had been assigned to him. Carla had gotten her own apartment too. Rudy had been excited to find out that there was on-site housing. He didn't want to be too far from Steve.

Moving had never been easier. The OSI had packed up Rudy's and Carla's belongings, moved them to their new apartments, and unpacked them within four days. They had stayed at the on-site hotel until their belongings arrived. Even Steve's apartment at Edwards Air Force Base had been packed up and moved into storage.

Everything had happened so fast that Rudy hadn't had a chance to notify NASA of his change of employment, but Oscar had handled that too. Rudy was grateful that the OSI had handled those details. He couldn't have imagined trying to deal with moving on top of everything else he had to deal with this past week.

Attending to Steve had been his first priority. Rudy had kept him asleep with the electro-sleep machine while his body healed. And Carla and the other two nurses took shifts taking care of his physical needs.

Putting together a bionics department from scratch was the most overwhelming task at the moment. Rudy's head hurt just thinking about it. He had the space to work but it was just an empty shell. Furniture, equipment, and supplies all needed to be ordered. Walls needed to be built and cabinets installed. He was grateful that Oscar had assigned a designer to help him with the details and oversee the construction and purchasing.

Rudy looked over the list of specialists' names he had started. Choosing his team was one of the most important decisions he had to make. He looked up to where Steve lay sleeping. Even with the bandages, Steve looked so peaceful, so unaware of all the events and that had been put into motion already to repair and rebuild him. Rudy wanted only the best for Steve. He needed the best doctors, engineers, and technicians.

Rudy's thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and Oscar walked in. Rudy started to stand.

"Don't get up on my account, Doctor," Oscar said. "You look like you need to relax a bit."

Rudy sank back into the chair and watched as Oscar walked over to Steve.

"How is he doing?"

"He's healing nicely. I think in another week he'll be ready for us to start surgery to repair the rest of the damage from the crash," Rudy replied. "You've got some good surgeons here at this hospital. I'd like to use a few of them to help me with the surgery."

"Sure, give me their names and I'll make sure they get on the approved staff list."

Oscar walked over to Rudy and sat in the chair next to his. "How long are you going to keep him under?" he asked, nodding toward Steve.

Rudy sighed. "I could have woken him up a couple of days ago."

"Why didn't you?"

"Well, just a lot going on this week and it was easier to keep him under. And, I hate to admit it, but I'm not looking forward to having to break the news to him."

"Do you want me to do it?"

"No, no. I appreciate the offer but he doesn't know you. It should come from me."

"So when are you going to do it?"

"Tomorrow night around eleven. The less people in the building the better. I've already asked Carla to work the night shift."

"I'd like to be there."

"That's not a good idea. I'm going to have to give him news that will completely devastate him. Having someone in the room that he doesn't know will just make it all the more harder. No, I need to do this alone."

"Okay. I understand. But, remember, you're also giving him hope."

"He may not look at it like that."


	7. The Awakening

Rudy had been dreading this moment. He was ready to give Steve the injection that would wake him up.

His hand was shaking.

Carla noticed. "Do you want anything?"

"Tempting, but no thanks."

The injection needed to go into a big muscle, which meant either the thigh muscle or the buttocks. Because of Steve's pelvic fracture, Rudy was glad that the thigh muscle was available, although he knew that after bionic surgery, that part of Steve's leg would be mostly gone.

Rudy pulled back the sheet, revealing one of Steve's stumps. Carla cleaned a spot on the thigh with alcohol and Rudy pushed the syringe into the large muscle and pushed down on the plunger.

Rudy looked at the clock. "Okay, he should be awake in about twenty minutes. Help me strap him down."

Once they had strapped Steve down, Rudy turned to Carla. "Okay, get out of here…and thank you, Carla."

Carla smiled and left, waiting outside the room in the hallway with Oscar Goldman.

Rudy carefully pulled the nasotracheal intubation tube from Steve's nose and replaced it with a nasal cannula. He listened to Steve's breathing with the stethoscope and was pleased with what he heard. Now Steve would be able to talk. He might be a bit hoarse, but he would be able to talk.

Rudy looked at the clock. Five minutes to go. Which side of the bed should he stand? Should he stand on Steve's right side to be close to his remaining eye? Should he stand on his left side and hold his hand? Rudy decided on the latter and took Steve's hand in his own. Yes, this was a better choice. Steve would have to look away from his missing arm to see him.

The twenty minutes were up. Rudy stared at Steve's face, waiting for the first signs of consciousness.

Steve's eye moved beneath his closed lid, and then the lid slowly opened.

"Steve? It's Rudy. Rudy Wells."

The blue eye looked at him. Then it closed again and Steve's hand tightened around Rudy's. Pain perhaps?

"Steve, don't try to move. You're in a hospital. You're strapped down."

"Uh…"

"Take it easy. Can you understand me?"

The blue eye stared at him, trying to focus. "Y—yeah…," Steve managed to get out.

"Good. Don't try to move."

"W—where…am I?"

"You're in a hospital in Colorado."

"Colo—Colorado?" Steve glanced around the hospital room.

"That's right. We flew you up here last week from the test center."

"Wh—why Colorado?"

"There are special facilities here. We didn't have what you needed at Edwards."

Steve stared past Rudy, trying to understand what that meant.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Steve looked at Rudy and thought for a moment. "Trim blew…lost control…she got away…nothing I could do."

"That's right. Nothing anyone could have done under the circumstances."

"How is she?"

"I'm afraid she's totaled."

Steve sighed, and then released his grip on Rudy's hand and opened and closed his fist. He tried to move his left arm but the straps stopped him.

"Why can't I move?"

"You're strapped down."

"Why?"

"You have some injuries that still need to be fixed. Moving would just aggravate them."

Steve was quiet for a moment and then, "How bad?"

"Bad."

Steve looked away and then looked back at Rudy. There was apprehension in that blue eye. "I'm gonna have hear it sometime, Doc."

Rudy hesitated.

Steve noticed. "That bad?"

Rudy sighed. "Steve, we almost lost you. You were clinically dead for fifty-two seconds."

"That long? Wow."

"Yeah." Rudy nodded. "Our biggest concern right now is your heart. Now we know there has been some damage to your heart-valve structure. But we won't know the extent of it until we go in and take a look."

"You mean heart surgery?"

"Yes." Rudy nodded.

"What happens if I don't have the surgery?"

"That's not an option. So far your heart has been able to handle the blood supply for your body, but that's only because you've been lying in bed and haven't been putting any strain on it. I'm scheduling surgery for you in one week and in the meantime you have to take it easy. That means no physical exertion."

"You'll get no argument from me there. I—I feel like I've been run over by a truck." Steve grimaced from the dull but uncomfortable pain. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, you had a mild skull fracture and concussion, but that looks like it has healed nicely on its own."

"That's good."

"You also have a pelvic fracture and we're going to have to go in and repair that."

"More surgery?"

"I'm afraid so."

Steve sighed. "Great."

"You had a large, deep laceration on your right side."

"Let me guess, more surgery."

"No, we already repaired that. It just needs time to heal."

"Well, that's a relief."

"Five of your ribs were crushed and had to be removed. They caused some lung damage. We've had you intubated up to now to maintain normal pressure in your lungs. And the oxygen you're getting now will continue to help with your breathing," Rudy explained. "Your lungs are healing nicely but we'll need to go in and replace those missing ribs."

"That means surgery," Steve stated flatly.

"Yes," Rudy nodded sympathetically.

"Boy, you weren't kidding when you said bad. I'm afraid to ask if there is anything else. Is there?"

Rudy sighed. "You lost your left eye, Steve."

"What? How?"

"Something sharp penetrated your helmet and went straight into your eye. We were unable to save it."

Steve stared off into space. "This is going to ground me."

Rudy dreaded what was coming next, but he pushed forward. "You did sustain some injury to your spinal column and we were afraid that you wouldn't be able to move your left arm, but your arm seems to be okay."

"Well, I guess I should be grateful for that. I might have lost the use of…Why can't I move my right arm or legs?"

Rudy bowed his head. He didn't know how to say it.

"Rudy?"

Rudy finally blurted it out. "Steve, you lost your right arm in the accident and your legs were crushed. We had to amputate."

"What?" He was bewildered. He looked at where his right arm should have been. "No!" Then he lifted his head and looked at his legs. His head fell back to the pillow and his eye went wide. "No!" Steve struggled frantically against the restraints but stopped when pain shot through his body. It took him a few seconds to catch his breath. "Why didn't you let me die!"

"Steve, listen to me."

Tears started to well up in that blue eye.

Rudy shouted to get Steve's attention. "Listen to me!"

Steve looked at him. Rudy had never seen so much anguish in that face.

"Steve, remember that time you asked me what I did with all my spare time since you were my only patient? And I told you about my research into bionics. And you said how wonderful it sounded and how it could give hope to amputees in the future. Remember that?"

"What?" Steve was confused.

"Well, that time is now, Steve! I've got the funding! I can make you whole again! You'll be able to walk again! You'll be able to have two legs, two arms and two eyes! I can give you back what you lost!"

Steve looked at Rudy incredulously. "You're insane. You want me to be your guinea pig?"

"Steve, it can work!" Rudy pleaded.

"Go away. Leave me alone."

"Steve, please."

"Leave me alone!"

Rudy sighed. "Okay. Okay," Rudy said softly. He was too drained to push it further. He turned and started to walk out of the door, glancing back to see tears streaming from Steve's eye.

Oscar's and Carla's eyes were fixed on Rudy as he walked out of the room.

"So, how did he take it?" Oscar asked eagerly.

"How do you think he took it?"

"That bad, huh?" Oscar was disappointed. "What about the bionics?"

"He looked at me like I had a horn growing out of my forehead when I talked about it."

Oscar frowned.

Rudy turned to Carla. "I want you to check on him every thirty minutes, but try to be discreet about it. He's grieving and he needs the space to do it privately. I'll be at home trying to get some sleep, but don't hesitate to call me if something comes up."

"I understand, Doctor."


	8. Suicide

He completely broke down. Sobs wracked his body as the anguish overwhelmed him.

Steve had a reputation for being strong-minded, unflappable, and resilient, but this was too much for even him to handle. He had reached his breaking point.

He wept until finally exhaustion overtook him and he fell asleep. But it was a restless, fitful sleep as his subconscious worked overtime to torment him.

When he woke up a couple of hours later, it was the middle of the night. He was alone. A soft light illuminated his quiet hospital room. He had no tears left, only emptiness – the numbness of shock.

Steve had always lived with the danger that came with being a test pilot and astronaut and he had accepted it. Mentally, he knew the risks. He'd even had a few close calls. His chopper had been shot down while on tour in Vietnam, landing him in the hospital with broken ribs. He had on more than one occasion ejected mid-flight from a jet he was testing and ended up with bruises and abrasions. But he always took them in stride and came out the other end.

He believed that there were worse ways to go than dying doing something you love. He had always figured that he wouldn't survive a serious accident – at least he had never heard of anyone surviving one. But by some miracle he had survived this one and with it every hope and dream he had for the future had been destroyed. Flying, space, the moon…all gone. Finding the woman of his dreams and raising a family…gone. What woman would want a helpless invalid?

He was living a nightmare that he couldn't wake up from. His choices were bleak. Live the life of an invalid, dependent on others for his most basic needs. Give his broken body to science and let Rudy do god knows what with it. Or die, like he was supposed to.

There would be peace with death. No pain. No suffering. No despair. Just peaceful oblivion. It was his decision to make and he decided that there was no point in living anymore.

If he was going to do it, he needed to do it now – before they could stop him, before they could fix what was wrong with him. His heart – that was the key. It was weak. It couldn't handle physical exertion. This might be easier than he thought it would be. Get it over quickly.

He needed his one remaining arm to make this work. He pulled his arm upward. With each movement the restraints drew tight against his injured body. He grunted with the effort and gritted his teeth at the pain as he pulled his hand free of the first restraint. One restraint down, one to go. He strained to pull his shoulder up as far as he could. Finally, his elbow cleared the second restraint. With a bend of his elbow, his arm was free.

He removed the nasal cannula from his nose and immediately noticed how much harder it was to breath. Next he knocked over the IV stand. With his teeth he pulled the IV tubing out of his arm. Blood began to pour out of the catheter taped to his arm. He started feeling a little light-headed but he couldn't stop now. The more damage he could do to himself, the faster the end would come.

He started unbuckling the first restraint. But an arm grabbed his and tried to stop him. He fought it. A second arm grabbed him. It was a nurse – Carla. It took both of her arms to hold down his one. He struggled but in his weakened condition was unable to free himself of her grip.

"Please." He looked into her eyes, begging.

She looked scared and sympathetic but wouldn't let him go. "Please," he pleaded again.

He felt himself getting weaker and weaker and then everything went dark and he passed out.

Carla was shaking, but the blood flowing from Steve's arm had to be stopped and quickly. She ran out of the room and came back with a fresh saline bag. Swiftly, she picked the IV stand off the ground and placed it upright as she hung the saline bag on it. She inserted the tubing into the catheter taped to Steve's arm and watched as the pressure from the dripping liquid slowly stopped the bleeding. Then she placed the nasal cannula back into his nose.

There was blood splattered everywhere and it was hard to tell if Steve had done any more damage to himself or if the blood was just from his arm. She unbuckled the restraints and pulled the bloody sheet off of him and began examining his body. When she found no further injuries, she let out a sharp breath in relief.


	9. The Crime Scene

Rudy pushed open the door to Steve's room and stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh my god."

"It looks worse than it is," Carla replied from the other side of the bed. She was on her hands and knees wiping blood off the floor.

"Yeah, well it looks like a damn crime scene."

Carla stood up and looked around the room. It was her first opportunity to really take a good look since she had interrupted Steve's attempt at suicide twenty minutes ago. She had been going non-stop since it happened. After she had gotten Steve stabilized, called Rudy, taken Steve's vitals and updated his chart, and retrieved cleaning supplies and fresh sheets from the supply closet, she figured she would tackle cleaning the floor first since that was a slip hazard. But now that she looked around the room, she realized that Rudy was right. There was a naked, bloody, dismembered man lying unconscious on a blood stained bed, a blood stained sheet was crumpled up on the blood splattered floor. Carla's uniform was splattered with blood too.

"I guess it's a good thing the police aren't here. We'd have some explaining to do," she quipped.

"I should have known he'd try to pull something like this." Rudy looked at Steve and shook his head in disapproval, at himself as much as at Steve. "Do you have his chart?"

"Yes, here it is," she said as she handed it to him.

"Thanks," he said as he looked it over. "Carry on with what you were doing."

Carla went back to cleaning the floor while Rudy thoroughly examined Steve. He then removed all Steve's bandages to examine his wounds for signs of further damage. Once he was satisfied that there was none, he bandaged up his wounds again with fresh bandages. By the time he was done, Carla was done cleaning up the splattered blood that had also managed to get on some of the nearby equipment.

"Well, other than losing some blood, he's okay," Rudy commented. "It's a good thing you came in when you did. It could have been a lot worse." Rudy shuddered to think about what would be happening right now had Steve succeeded. They would be carrying him away in a body bag.

"Can you clean him up before we change the sheets?" Rudy said on his way out of Steve's room. "I'll be back."

"Certainly, Doctor."

* * *

Carla was finishing up giving Steve a sponge bath when Rudy came in with a gurney, wrist restraint, and an orderly. Together the three of them carefully moved Steve onto the gurney. After Carla and the orderly changed the sheets, they then moved Steve back on the bed and covered him with a sheet. The orderly then left.

"I hate to do this but I don't trust him. He'll try again if he gets the opportunity." Rudy attached a wrist restraint to the bed and placed the restraint around Steve's left wrist, effectively immobilizing it.

"Now I don't want him left alone for a minute. Not for a minute from now on," Rudy emphasized. "Even with that wrist restraint, I don't trust him. He's too damn smart for his own good and he might find a way…"

"I understand," Carla replied. "I'll set up the nurses' schedule. We'll have to take longer shifts to cover breaks and meals."

"Sounds good. Let me know if you need another nurse to help out." Rudy said. "You go home and get some rest and get out of that uniform. I'll stay with him tonight."

Carla looked down at her blood-splattered uniform. "Yes, I guess I better get cleaned up." She turned to leave.

"Oh, one more thing, Carla," Rudy yawned. "Can you bring me a cup of coffee before you go? I think I'm going to need it."


	10. The Firing of Doctor Wells

The morning sun was streaming in through the window when Steve opened his eyes and saw Rudy glaring down at him.

Rudy was livid. "Steve, what the hell were you thinking?"

Steve turned his head away. "God, Rudy, please just let me die."

Rudy sighed. "I can't do that."

Steve looked at him with an imploring eye. "You know me, Rudy," Steve begged. "You _know_ I can't live like this. Please let me die."

Yes, Rudy did know that about Steve. He had been responsible for, not only Steve's physical health, but also his mental health for the last three years. Rudy knew that life as an invalid would be difficult, maybe impossible, for Steve to ever accept. But Rudy could never in good conscience ever be responsible for a man's death.

"Steve, I took an oath a long time ago to save lives, not destroy them."

"Then I am refusing any further surgery."

"I won't go along with that." Rudy shook his head.

"You won't…? Don't you think that is my decision to make?" Steve was getting angry. "This is my body!"

"Steve, it stopped becoming your decision when you tried to harm yourself."

"I should have died in that accident. Don't you see? I'm not supposed to be alive!"

"But you are alive! And as long as I'm your doctor, you're going to stay alive!"

"Then you're fired! You are no longer my doctor!"

"You can't fire me. I don't work for you."

Steve pulled in frustration on the wrist restraint, noticing it for the first time. "Listen to me, I want to speak to Calvin Billings at NASA right now! We'll see what he has to say about this."

Rudy knew what was coming. Steve was about to find out a harsh reality. "I don't work for NASA, Steve."

"Don't work for NASA?" Steve looked confused. "Well, I do! And I want to talk to Billings now!"

"You don't work for NASA either."

"What? Of course I do! What are you talking about?"

"Not anymore, Steve. You've been reassigned. You are now under the legal guardianship of the OSI."

"The OSI?" Steve was stunned.

"Yes, this is an OSI facility. I now work for the OSI."

"Rudy, why in hell are you working for the OSI?" Then it became clear to Steve. "Wait. They're funding your research, aren't they?"

This was the opening Rudy had been looking for. "Yes, Steve! With their money I'm going to be able to help you walk again! You'll have two arms and two eyes! You'll be able to live a normal life!"

"A normal life?" Steve looked in disbelief at Rudy. "You sold out. I can't believe you sold out."

"I didn't sell out anything, Steve. I have a way to be able to help you!"

"Rudy, they're an intelligence agency. They deal in espionage, assassinations, weapons! They aren't funding your research out of the goodness of their hearts because they want to help me. They are funding your research because they want you to use your research to turn me into a weapon!"

"No, Steve, you've got it all wrong…"

"I've got it exactly right! Don't…don't even try to defend it."

"Steve, you've got to listen to me!"

"I don't have to listen to anything you say. Get away from me! Leave me alone!"

"Steve…" Rudy pleaded.

"Go to hell!"


	11. The Status Report

"What? He tried to commit suicide?" Oscar's jaw fell open.

"Yes, last night." Rudy nodded.

Oscar leaned back in his chair. "He…I mean…he seemed so perfect on paper…so stable. I thought I had picked the right man…"

"You _did_ pick the right man. Please don't let this incident sway you otherwise." Rudy looked at Oscar intently. "Let me tell you something about Steve Austin. One of the things that make him such a remarkable man is that he has always fully used his mind and body to accomplish great things. It's what differentiates him from the average man who isn't willing to push himself. But it's also his Achilles heel, because he can't handle not being able to fully use his mind or body."

"Do you think this is just a one-time thing? Will he be mentally stable after this?"

"No, I'm afraid he's going to be suicidal for a long time. But I've got a wrist restraint on his arm and a nurse will be in his room twenty-four hours a day to keep an eye on him. It may seem extreme but, right now, he needs to be protected against himself. This is not something that he will easily get over," Rudy explained. "At this moment his mind needs just as much healing as his body. And I've got to tell you, this is going to be a long and trying process. But I know this man and when his body and his mind heal, and if he agrees to become bionic and work for you…you will have a most extraordinary man. You won't be sorry."

"Okay, Doctor." Oscar looked at the man sitting across the desk from him. "You're the psychologist. I'll trust your assessment. But I would like to meet him. Do you think that would be possible?"

"In his current mental state, that wouldn't be a good idea. He's angry and his mind is made up. He thinks I sold out to the OSI and that the only reason the OSI is funding my research is to turn him into a weapon."

Oscar snorted. "I'm always amazed how many people have such misconceptions about what we do here at the OSI."

"Well, I did too," Rudy admitted. "But give him time to heal. When the time is right, you'll get to meet him."

Oscar nodded. "Okay, it looks like I'll have to be patient. What's the next step, Doctor?"

"Well, I need to build his strength back up. He lost some blood with that stunt he pulled last night. It wasn't enough to kill him, but it was enough to weaken him a bit. He needs to be stronger before I put him through heart surgery so I'm going to push the surgery off for a few more days and start feeding him liquid protein. I'm hoping I can convince him to drink it willingly, but I've got the feeling I may have to resort to a feeding tube."

"Okay, keep me up to date." Oscar rifled through some papers on his desk. "Ah, here it is." He handed a newspaper article to Rudy.

Rudy read the heading aloud. "_Astronaut Steve Austin Walks Away From Experimental Plane Crash_." Rudy raised his eyebrows at Oscar and then read the rest of the article to himself.

_Edwards Air Force Base, California – Astronaut Colonel Steven Austin was safe last Thursday after an experimental aircraft he was testing crashed just as he was bringing it in for a landing. Sources say that he lost control of the aircraft, which flipped over numerous times before coming to a halt on the desert floor. Colonel Austin sustained only minor cuts and bruises and was able to exit the cockpit under his own power as rescue crews raced to reach him._

_Colonel Austin could not be reached for comment, but NASA officials reported that the aircraft was completely totaled, adding that "it's a miracle he survived with only minor injuries. We can always rebuild the aircraft. We can't rebuild Colonel Austin."_

Rudy chuckled. "That last sentence is cute. Real cute," Rudy said as he handed the article back to Oscar.

"I thought you might find that amusing," Oscar replied with a smile.

"How are you keeping all the rescue and medical personnel from talking?"

"Everyone who has any knowledge of what really happened has been tracked down and required to sign a non-disclosure agreement."

Oscar picked up a piece of paper off of his desk. "I've been looking over your list of specialists. You've got some pretty impressive names. You've got several prosthetists, a neurosurgeon, a neurologist, several biomedical engineers, a physical therapist. But I'm wondering about this last one…a plastic surgeon?"

"Ah, yes, Dr. Staton. He's doing breakthrough work in the field of reconstructive microsurgery. He's developed techniques to make the scars of surgery virtually invisible to the human eye. It's incredible! I absolutely have to have him on my team, because in order for bionics to remain secretive, there can't be visible scars where Steve's bionic parts will attach to his body. Or any other scars on his body for that matter. He needs to look as if nothing has ever happened to him."

"I see. Makes sense. Okay, I'll get background checks started on all of these names," replied Oscar. "One other thing, Doctor, I stopped by the lab earlier and I see the walls have already gone up."

"Yes, Jacque, the designer you assigned to me, is doing a wonderful job. At the rate he's going, we'll have furniture moved in within a week."

"Glad to hear it. I'll be heading back to Washington tonight for some meetings but I should be back within a few days."

"I'll see you then. Have a good trip." Rudy got up, shook Oscar's hand, and left.


	12. Force Feeding

"Carla, do you have the lidocaine ready?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Okay, we're going to see how he does without it first."

Rudy walked over to Steve. "Steve, I'm going to raise the head of the bed. I want you to tell me if you feel any pain."

Steve turned his head away from Rudy. "Leave me alone."

"I can't do that. You can yell and curse at me all you like, but we're going to do this."

Steve yanked on the wrist restraint in frustration but didn't reply.

Rudy pushed a button and the head of the bed began to rise.

"Do you feel any pain?"

Steve refused to reply but he felt some pressure as all his weight began to settle on his fractured pelvis. As the bed rose higher, the pressure increased to pain. Beads of sweat started to form on his forehead.

Rudy noticed. "Any pain, Steve?"

Steve stubbornly refused to say anything, but the pain kept increasing. Steve began hyperventilating. The pain became so agonizing that he couldn't keep quiet any longer. He screamed.

Rudy immediately pushed the down button and the head of the bed started to go down. "Okay. Okay. It's going down, Steve. Try to relax."

Finally, the bed was flat again. Steve was shaking.

Carla laid a cool damp cloth on his forehead as she looked compassionately at him. "Easy now. Try to calm down," she said soothingly.

Rudy looked at Steve. "You know, if you weren't so damn stubborn, we could have avoided this."

"G—go to h—hell," was all Steve could manage to spit out.

Rudy ignored Steve's reply and said to Carla, "It looks like we're going to have to go with the lidocaine."

Carla picked up a syringe from the tray and handed it to Rudy.

Rudy pulled back the sheet, exposing Steve's right groin.

Carla had alcohol and a cotton ball ready. "Right here?" she asked, pointing to a spot on Steve's groin.

"Yes, that's the spot," Rudy agreed.

Carla cleaned the spot and then Rudy gave Steve the injection.

Steve let out a whimper.

"Okay, Steve, give that a couple of minutes to work and you shouldn't feel anything," Rudy said.

Relief washed over Steve's face as the pain disappeared.

"Okay, we're going to try it again," Rudy announced as he pushed the up button on the bed.

Steve looked panicky as the head of the bed started to rise. But there was no pain this time. He let out a sigh of relief when the bed stopped at its full upright position.

"Well, it looks like until we can go in there and repair that fractured pelvis, we're going to have to do it this way. Carla, do you have the protein drink?"

"Yes, Doctor." Carla took a glass with a straw containing a milky white liquid and put it up to Steve's mouth.

Steve just looked at it but kept his mouth shut.

"Now, Steve, we need to build your strength up before we can get you into heart surgery. This is a zero-residue high-protein drink. I want you to drink it," Rudy said.

Steve shook his head obstinately.

"Hmm…you are a stubborn son of bitch, aren't you?" Rudy snorted. "Okay. Okay. I'll give you a choice. You can either drink it willingly or we will have to take more forceful measures, which I can assure you, you won't like."

"That's not a choice," Steve spitted out.

"Well, that's all the choice you're going to get. Now what will it be?"

Steve looked at the drink and sighed. "Well, can I at least feed myself?"

Rudy smiled. "Yes, I think we can manage that." Rudy unbuckled the wrist restraint.

Steve stretched out his arm. It felt good to be able to move it again. He looked at the drink in front of him and resignedly took it from Carla. Then he just stared at it.

"C'mon, Steve, drink up," Rudy encouraged him.

Steve's jawline hardened and he suddenly flung the drink across the room with as much force as he could muster. The glass shattered and liquid splattered everywhere.

Rudy grabbed Steve's arm. Steve tried to resist, but Rudy got the wrist restraint back on.

"Okay, I guess we do this the hard way."

Steve just glared at him.

* * *

"Dr. Wells, he's waking up," Carla said.

Rudy walked over to the bed and watched as Steve's eye opened.

"Welcome back. How are you feeling?"

"Groggy. My stomach hurts. What happened?"

"Steve, you've had a procedure called a percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy."

"A what?"

"It means that we've inserted a feeding tube into your stomach."

"What?" Steve looked down at his stomach. His eye went wide when he saw the bandage and the tube taped down to his skin.

"No! No! You had no right to do this to me! You had no right!"

"Steve, I warned you," Rudy said sternly. "I told you that if you didn't willingly eat, we were going to do this the hard way."

"You had no right!"

"As your legal guardian, I have every right. I'm doing this for your own good. You may not appreciate it right now, but some day you will."

* * *

The next morning Rudy removed the dressing to inspect the incision site on Steve's stomach. "Looking good. No infection."

Steve didn't say anything. He looked away, fuming.

Rudy placed clean dressing on the incision and taped it down. "Okay, Carla, you're going to be doing this three times a day, so let's see if you've got this."

"Yes, sir." Carla expertly gave Steve the lidocaine injection in his groin while Rudy watched. After waiting for a couple of minutes for it to take effect, she then raised the head of the bed. She then attached a large syringe filled with the high-protein liquid to the tube protruding from Steve's stomach.

"You're getting some breakfast, Steve," Rudy said.

Steve watched in horror as liquid made its way through the tube into his stomach. "Please, no," he begged. "Please, no."

Carla responded gently, "Don't fight it. This is for your own good. Okay?"

Steve just looked at her, a tear streaming down his eye.

When the syringe was empty, Carla disconnected it from the feeding tube. She turned to Rudy. "So he stays in this upright position for one hour, is that correct?"

"That's right. We want to avoid aspiration problems."

Steve just lay there, numb, tears streaming down his cheek.


	13. Deception

It was late and the hospital was quiet. Steve stared at the ceiling of his room from his hospital bed. One of the alternate nurses was sitting in a nearby chair reading a book. He was never allowed to be alone. There was always someone in the room with him. And yet he had never felt more alone in his life, not even when he was a quarter of a million miles away on the surface of the moon.

Earlier in the day he had begged Rudy for a phone call – just one phone call. Prisoners are allowed phone calls. Surely he would be allowed one, right? But the answer had been a firm no.

He was like a prisoner – actually, worse off than a prisoner. At least prisoners have rights. But he had been stripped of every right he had. And yet he had committed no crime. He had always kept his nose clean and served his country with honor. He had been a celebrated hero. But now that his body was broken and he was of no further use to NASA, they had discarded him. No, this was worse than being discarded. He should have been in an air force or veteran's hospital right now. At least his folks would be allowed to visit him there. Instead, he was shipped off to the OSI to become a human experiment. And the doctor he had trusted the past few years had become his captor and tormentor.

Steve had no doubt that the OSI would use his body however they wanted. There was no way that they would just repair his body and let him go home. He knew the reputation of these intelligence agencies and they weren't in the business of rendering medical care for the heck of it. No, they were ruthless. They had to be. That was the nature of the espionage business – assassinations, sabotage, infiltration, subversion.

He faced an uncertain future as a test subject and that terrified him. Completely helpless, he could do nothing to stop them. He desperately needed someone on his side.

* * *

Steve watched as Carla Peterson carefully cleaned the incision around his feeding tube. It had been a few days since it had been inserted and while it still hurt, it wasn't as bad as before.

He figured that Carla looked to be in her late twenties. She was pretty with gray eyes and almost the same shade of sandy brown hair that he had. He noticed that she didn't wear a wedding ring. As a former eligible bachelor, he had always noticed that first when checking out a pretty girl. Carla was someone that he would have probably dated in his previous life – a life when his good looks, charm, and status as an astronaut could get him practically any woman he wanted. Now, all that was gone. The athletic body and good looks that would make women take a second look were now marred with missing limbs, a gauze patch where his left eye used to be, and numerous bandages that would eventually reveal large ugly scars. Carla, having given him daily sponge baths and regularly changing his urinary catheter, had seen everything, but he had never seen any hint of admiration when she looked at his body. He had never let his looks go to his head, but it was still a blow that he was no longer desirable to women.

Steve winced as Carla gave him the injection in his groin. The only thing good about that painful injection, which he got three times a day, was the pain relief it gave him once it took effect. For around six hours a day, he felt no pain below his waist.

Steve watched her as she pushed the button to raise the head of his bed.

"Are you ready for some breakfast?" Carla smiled at him. She was always so sweet and sympathetic to him. Maybe he could use that. Maybe he could play on her sympathy. He had never done that to an attractive woman before, but his usual turning on the charm would no longer work. He had to try something new.

Carla attached the giant syringe of protein liquid to Steve's feeding tube and slowly pushed down on the plunger.

Steve watched the liquid move down the tube and into his stomach. "I'm sorry I've been so difficult," he said.

Carla looked at him in surprise.

"I'm…I'm just so scared. My life is over and I'm afraid I haven't been handling it very well."

"Hey, being scared is understandable. I think anyone in your position would be," she said compassionately. "But your life isn't over. Dr. Wells is going to be able to help you. You'll have your life and your limbs back. Don't give up hope."

Good lord, this girl was drinking the same Kool-Aid as everyone else. This might be harder than he thought.

"What if…he can't? What's going to happen to me?"

"Don't worry about that. Dr. Wells is the best there is. It'll work. Have faith."

* * *

The next few days Steve continued to play on Carla's sympathies. It was something completely foreign to him, but he found it easier than he thought it would be because many of the things he was telling her were true. He hated manipulating Carla, but he was desperate and he was running out of time. He had to do this before the heart surgery. Once he had the surgery, he would be recovering for weeks and in no condition to fight back.

"What if don't survive the heart surgery?" It was a weird question to be asking Carla while she was changing his urinary catheter, especially since he had never before tried to strike up a conversation with her while she was doing it. But after being poked and prodded so much lately, he was beginning to lose his sense of modesty.

Carla was just about to insert the fresh tubing into his urethra when he asked the question. She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. Steve had certainly been perplexing these past few days and she hadn't been sure what to make of it. She had mentioned Steve's sudden personality change to Rudy, which set off red flags for him. Rudy had advised her to continue to be kind and comforting to Steve, but warned her that this could all be a ruse on Steve's part to get her sympathy to try to use her in some way.

"Hold that thought while I finish up here," she replied. She finished what she was doing and then covered Steve back up with the sheet.

She smiled at him while she removed her medical exam gloves. "Hey, you've been through a lot worse than heart surgery already. You'll do fine. This hospital has one of the finest heart surgeons in the country and he'll be in the operating room with Dr. Wells. You have nothing to worry about."

"But it's heart surgery. I mean they literally have to stop my heart. What if I die? I'll never have had a chance to talk to my parents and tell them I love them and say goodbye."

Oh, here it comes, she thought.

"Do you think you could let me call them? Just one call. Just one call to hear their voices again. Please?"

"Now you know that's against the rules, Steve."

"Please?"

"Well…"

"Please? I'm begging you."

"Well, let me see what I can do." And now she would begin to string him along. Better for him to be hopeful going into surgery than to be angry and upset.

"Thank you."

Carla smiled and squeezed his hand gently.

* * *

The next morning Rudy came in and relieved the night shift nurse. Steve kept expecting Carla to come in but she didn't show.

"Where's Carla?" he asked Rudy.

"Oh, she has a migraine. I've ordered bed rest for her today. I'll be filling in for her today."

"Oh," was all Steve could manage to say. This wasn't looking good. There were only two days left before his heart surgery and his only ally was out sick.

Rudy examined Steve and then fed him his liquid breakfast. They didn't talk and Steve didn't pay attention to what Rudy was doing. He was too busy brooding over Carla's absence so he didn't notice when Rudy injected the contents of a syringe into his IV. Within a few minutes Steve began to get sleepy and then he passed out. Rudy then pulled out the tenting frame and set up the tenting on Steve's bed to hide his body. Once he was done he opened the door.

"Okay, you can come in now," Rudy said as he motioned for the maintenance man to enter the room. "Now I want the telephone jack either removed or covered up so that it looks like there isn't one in this room."

The maintenance man gave Rudy an odd look. "Sure. I can do that."

The maintenance man went to work and about twenty minutes later was finished. "Anything else you need, Dr. Wells?"

"No, that should do it. Thank you very much."

Once the maintenance man left, Rudy removed the tenting and frame on Steve's bed.

A couple of hours later Steve woke up. Rudy was sitting in a nearby chair doing paperwork.

Steve yawned. "What time is it?"

Rudy looked at his watch. "Almost eleven-thirty," he replied.

"Wow, I must have been more tired than I thought."

"Well, I'm glad you're getting plenty of sleep. You need to be well rested for heart surgery in a couple of days."

Steve frowned.

* * *

Steve was thrilled to see Carla the next morning. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I really didn't have a migraine. I just used that as an excuse. I found an old storage room and it took me several hours of digging but look what I found." Carla pulled a rotary phone out of a big bag she was carrying.

Steve laughed. "Quick, plug it in."

Carla moved a side table out of the way and looked around. "Steve, I don't see a phone jack."

"What?"

"No, seriously. There isn't one here."

"Well, look on the other side of the bed."

Carla moved to the other side of the bed and looked. "There isn't one here either."

"There's got to be. Can you raise me up and move the bed so I can see?"

"Sure, but I'm telling you, it's not there." Carla gave Steve a shot in his groin, raised the head of the bed, unlocked the wheels, and moved the bed around so that Steve could see.

Steve scanned the baseboard but saw nothing. "What room doesn't have a phone jack? It's got to be somewhere else." He looked around the room. "What about behind those chairs?"

Carla looked behind the chairs. "No, nothing. What are we going to do, Steve?"

Steve thought for a moment. "Can you find out where the nearest phone jack is? Maybe there is one in the next room."

"Okay, but I'll have to wait until I'm relieved for lunch before I can leave the room. In the meantime let's get your bed back in place and get some breakfast in you."

* * *

When Carla came back from lunch, Steve was anxious to hear if she had found a phone jack.

"So I found a phone jack in the next room, which is empty right now, but the cord isn't long enough."

"Well, can you find a longer cord? Or at least enough shorter cords to reach when we splice them together?"

"I think so. Wait. Yes. Yes. I remember seeing phone cords in that supply room."

"Good girl."

"But, Steve, I don't know how to splice wire."

"Don't worry about that. I'll tell you what to do. You'll just need a scalpel."

"Okay, I'll get the cord and scalpel after my shift; and I'll arrange to cover the night shift nurse's meal break. We can do it then."

"Thank you," Steve smiled. "You don't know how much this means to me."

Steve let out a breath of relief. He would be able to talk to his parents tonight; and just in the nick of time because his surgery was scheduled for the morning. He knew that his parents would be on his side and would fight to get him out of this nightmare.

* * *

That evening Carla walked into Rudy's newly furnished office.

"How's our boy doing this evening?" Rudy asked.

"He's in good spirits. He thinks I'm going to find more phone cord and help him call his parents tonight," Carla replied.

"Good. Good." Rudy nodded. "I wanted him in a positive frame of mind going into this surgery." Rudy stood up. "I think I'll pay him a visit. Why don't you go get some dinner and then rest, Carla? We scrub in for surgery at 7 a.m."

"Okay, goodnight, Doctor."

* * *

Rudy walked into Steve's room. "How are you doing? Ready for surgery tomorrow?"

"Well, not really." Steve tried not to sound too optimistic. Besides, he knew that even after contacting his folks, there wasn't much they could do at this late stage to stop the surgery. But, at least the wheels would be set in motion for his eventual release and that excited him.

"You'll do fine." Rudy patted him on the shoulder. "Now let's take a look at you." Rudy gave Steve a thorough exam and then injected the same sedative he used the day before into Steve's IV.

"What's that?" Steve asked.

"Oh, just some vitamins," Rudy replied. "I want to give you a little extra boost before surgery. Now you get some sleep. You've got a big day ahead of you tomorrow."

Once Steve had passed out, Rudy attached electrodes to his forehead and turned on the electro-sleep machine.


	14. Post Op

"He tried to manipulate Carla into letting him call his parents?" Oscar was kind of impressed.

"Yeah," replied Rudy. "Fortunately, we were able to use that to our advantage to keep his spirits up before the surgery."

"You know, in everything I've read about him, he doesn't seem like the manipulating type."

"Oh, he isn't," replied Rudy. "The Steve Austin you see before you is not the same man that I've known all these years. It's incredible what extreme trauma will do to a person. But don't think for a minute, Oscar, that you or I would be able to handle it any better."

"Oh, I don't. Believe me; I hate to think what I would do in his position. But I do have to say that his newfound ability could be useful to the OSI," Oscar said with a smile.

Rudy chuckled. "I bet."

Oscar looked down at an unconscious Steve. A large bandage covered the eight-inch incision that ran down the middle of his chest. "How is he doing?"

"He's doing well. If I had put off the surgery much longer, however, we might have lost him."

"How so?"

"Well, his mitral valve sustained damage. He was barely pumping enough blood to maintain a proper blood flow. So we ended up replacing his damaged valve with an artificial Teflon rimmed silastic disk valve."

"Already starting to make him bionic, eh, Rudy?"

Rudy laughed. "Well, this is actually a procedure that's been done many many times already throughout the world."

"So is he going to be able to function normally with that valve?"

"Yes, definitely. His heart is as good, maybe even better, than it was before."

"How long are you going to keep him in electro-sleep?" Oscar asked.

"For a week," replied Rudy. "I want to get him through the worst of the pain. Then I'll put him on sedatives and pain killers after that."

"Why not just keep him in electro-sleep until he heals? Isn't that safer than sedatives and pain killers?"

"It is, but if I keep him unconscious, his mind won't heal. He needs to be conscious to be able work through all the stages of grief that comes with limb loss. He can't do that if he is unconscious. So it's a delicate balance between keeping him physically comfortable and giving his mind the time it needs to heal."

* * *

Steve was somewhat aware of what was going on around him. But he felt so tired. Even opening his eye was more of an effort than he could manage. He felt moisture on his skin. He thought about the familiar sensation for a minute and came to the conclusion that he was getting a sponge bath. Then a soft towel was drying him off. Next, gentle hands smoothed lotion all over his body. He let himself enjoy the feeling. There was little to enjoy these pain-filled days and this new chest pain was especially bothersome. He felt the sheet covering him and was sorry that the bath was over.

"Steve? Steve?"

Steve recognized the voice as Rudy's.

"Uh," was all he could manage to get out.

"Steve." The voice was insistent. "C'mon, Steve. Wake up."

Steve struggled and finally got his eye open. Rudy was standing over him.

"Welcome back. How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy," he replied groggily.

"Yeah, that's the sedative working." Rudy pulled up Steve's eyelid and checked his eye. He didn't want to keep him awake for long, but he did need to do a quick check for pain. "Any discomfort?"

"Chest hurts."

"Okay, we'll get you something for that. Go back to sleep, okay?"

"Uh, huh" was all Steve could manage as he closed his eye and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Steve woke up for the first time since the surgery without the grogginess. The morning sun was shining through the window. He looked down at his chest and saw the large bandage covering his heart. He let his head fall back into the pillow in resignation.

"Good morning," Carla said. "Nice to see you looking more alert."

Steve looked at her. "When did I have the surgery?"

"Two weeks ago."

"Two weeks? Wait, I never got to call my parents."

"I'm sorry," Carla replied in her best apologetic voice. She already knew what she had to say. "You were already asleep when I got here and I'm afraid I chickened out."

"But you said you would help me."

"I know. But I completely forgot about the guard. If I had run phone cord from the other room, he would have seen it. I love my job and I don't want to lose it."

"Guard? What guard?"

"Oh, there's a guard stationed outside your room twenty-four/seven. I guess I'm so used to seeing him that I don't pay much attention to him anymore. Please don't be mad at me. I can't lose this job." Carla had hated deceiving Steve, but she understood Rudy's reasons for wanting Steve to go into heart surgery hopeful instead of angry.

"If I give you their number, can you call them for me? Please?"

Carla shook her head. "I can't do that. They'll find out I called. I'll lose my job."

"Please. This is my life," Steve pleaded.

"I'm sorry. I can't. But don't worry. You're getting the best medical care here. You'll be fine."

Steve didn't say anything but he looked like a man who had lost all hope.

* * *

It was midnight and the hospital was quiet. The minutes ticked by slowly. Steve stared at the ceiling of his room. It was over. There would be nobody to rescue him from this nightmare. He had lost his one ally. He was alone and completely helpless and at the mercy of the OSI. His life would be one of a lab rat from now on. He was just a body to them – a body that they would use to conduct their experiments. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not a thing.

So he withdrew. Deep within himself he went. Deep, where no one else could reach him.


	15. Catatonia

Carla paced back and forth nervously. She watched the door, glanced at Steve, and looked back at the door again. Finally, the door pushed open and Rudy walked in.

"Oh, thank goodness," Carla exclaimed.

"I got here as quickly as I could," said Rudy. "What's wrong?"

"He's not responding. He won't talk. He doesn't move. He just lies there and stares at the ceiling."

"How long has he been like this?"

"Since I got here this morning."

Rudy walked over to Steve. "Steve? Steve? It's Rudy. Can you hear me?"

Steve gave no indication that he heard Rudy. He continued staring at the ceiling.

Rudy gave Steve gentle slaps on his cheeks. Still no response. He clapped his hands loudly near Steve's ear. That didn't elicit a response either. Next, he shined a light in Steve's eye. His pupil constricted but he didn't blink. Finally, he removed the restraint from Steve's wrist and moved his arm up. When he let go, Steve's arm fell back down.

Rudy didn't bother to put on the restraint.

"Damn."

* * *

"He has what?"

"Catatonic depression," Rudy repeated.

"How did this happen?" Oscar asked.

"I believe, in Steve's case, that it's the result of extreme stress brought about by the loss of his limbs, the loss of his freedom, and the lack of a support system."

"Support system?"

"Yes. Let me explain," Rudy replied. "Most men in his position would be in a hospital surrounded by friends and family members who would advocate for them and give emotional support. But Steve doesn't have any of that. He not only has to deal with the devastation of the loss of his limbs, but we keep him hidden away in that room where he can't see his friends and family. He has to go through this experience completely alone."

"Well, you're a psychologist. Can't you talk to him?"

"No, he looks at me as part of his problem. I'm the one keeping him from what he wants."

"So, is there any treatment for this?"

"Yes, there are drugs and electroconvulsive therapy, but I don't want to go that route unless I absolutely have to. No, I'm going to let him ride it out for now. I want to see if he'll come out of this on his own."

Oscar sighed. "When you said this was going to be a rough ride, you weren't kidding."


	16. Rudy's Lab

Oscar entered Rudy's lab and was very pleased with what he saw. Instead of an empty shell, there were walls dividing the space into rooms and cabinets on the walls providing plenty of storage. Furniture filled the rooms and equipment had come in, although there were some boxes and crates sitting around that still hadn't been unpacked.

"Oscar!" Rudy had a big smile on his face when he saw his boss walk in. "How was your trip to France?" It had been a couple of weeks since Rudy had seen Oscar.

"The trip was very productive, Rudy," Oscar replied as he shook Rudy's hand. "I am quite happy with how the negotiations turned out."

"Good to hear. Would you like a tour around the lab? It's been a while since you've been here."

"Yes, I'd like that," Oscar replied.

"Great!" Rudy couldn't hide his excitement. He pointed to the room behind them. "So that room you entered when you first walked in is the reception area. You may have noticed the desk and the chairs?"

"Yes." Oscar nodded.

"My secretary will be sitting there and greeting any visitors. There is a small waiting area there and also a guard station for security. The double doors leading from the reception area to the rest of the lab will be locked at all times and two guards will be on duty at all times."

Rudy then made a sweeping gesture of the large room they were in. It was filled with tables containing an assortment of conventional prosthetic limbs and machinery. On one table was a full-size dummy of a man missing both legs and the right arm. "Now this room is the main prosthetics room. This is where we will design and build Steve's arm and legs."

Oscar walked over to the dummy. "This looks about the same size as Steve."

"It's an exact replica of Steve's body, down to the millimeter. We'll use this dummy to make sure that the limbs are correctly sized and placed."

Rudy began walking toward a hallway. "Follow me."

Rudy stopped in front of a metal door with rounded edges and a handwheel in the middle of it. "This door leads to an airlock," explained Rudy. "The airlock contains air showers and dressing rooms. From there is another door just like this one that leads to a clean room. Now we're not going to go in there because we would contaminate the room, but there's a viewing window over here."

Rudy and Oscar walked to a nearby window and looked in. The room's walls were all white. Tables of electronic equipment and tools filled the room. "This is where the electronic components of Steve's bionics will be built. The room has its own separate air system with special filters. Everyone entering the clean room must first go through the airlock and shower and change before entering."

"This is to make sure that no dust particles get into the electronics, right?"

"Yes, exactly," answered Rudy. "Now this room across the hall is the Ocular Prosthetics Department."

Diagrams of the eye were hung on the wall of this room and specialty equipment sat on tables.

"This is the area that is going to be my greatest challenge."

"Oh? How is that?"

"Well, I've worked out in great detail how bionic limbs should work, but I'm not as far along with my work on bionic eyes. I still have a lot of fine points to figure out and I'm not one hundred percent that my theories will work."

Oscar smiled. "I'm sure you'll work it out, Doctor."

Rudy smiled back. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. I hope I can live up to it."

"You will, Doctor. You will."

If Oscar was impressed with Steve's credentials, he had been even more impressed with Rudy Wells' credentials. While initially dismissing Rudy as just a flight surgeon, he later came to find out that Rudy held PhDs in medicine, psychology, electrical and mechanical engineering, and nuclear physics; and masters in computer science, electronics, and robotics. Rudy had started college at the age of sixteen and that was only because his parents wouldn't allow him to study abroad at an earlier age. Oscar was thrilled to have a scientist of Rudy's caliber in the OSI. He could feel it in his gut that great breakthroughs would come out of this relationship and he had come to genuinely like the man.

Rudy walked down the hall with Oscar to the next room. The door to the room was almost identical to the door to the clean room. It was metal with rounded edges and a handwheel in the middle of it. The sign on the door read:

_Caution_

_Radioactive Materials_

_Authorized Personnel Only_

_No Food or Drinks Allowed_

"This is our Nuclear Energy Department. The power packs that will power Steve's bionics will be created here." Rudy spinned the handwheel and opened the door. He then gestured for Oscar to enter.

"Is it safe?" Oscar asked.

"Perfectly. There's no radioactive material here yet. Come on in."

Rudy followed Oscar inside.

"This is an airlock. Should there be a radiation leak, this room will provide a buffer. It also contains dressing rooms and emergency showers. Hopefully, we will never need to use them."

Rudy spinned the handwheel on the second door and opened it. They walked inside.

"This room, like the clean room, has its own enclosed air system. It's also specially insulated with cement bricks to contain any radiation, should we have a leak."

Rudy pointed to a viewing window. "That window is made of leaded glass so that no radiation can penetrate it. All personnel working in this room will be required to wear a thermoluminescent dosimeter."

"That's to measure their radiation exposure, right?"

"Right. We're taking every safety precaution and hoping that we never need to use them."

Rudy took Oscar down another hallway. They passed office after office. A large room at the end contained cubicles. "This area is for offices for the doctors and cubicles for the technicians." Rudy pointed out his office and Carla's office. There was also a small break room for anyone who didn't want to leave the building to go to the cafeteria.

Finally, Rudy took Oscar down the last hallway. Rudy pushed open double doors to a large operating room set up with state-of-the-art equipment. "And this is where we will perform bionic surgery on Steve." Rudy eyes lit up. He was in his element. "You'll be able to watch the whole thing from the observation room above us."

Oscar looked up and was amazed at the height of the room. "Wait a minute. That's the floor above us. How did you do that?"

Rudy laughed. "Jacque and I managed to convince the folks above us to give us some of their floor space. When they found out it was for an operating room, they were willing to do it."

"That's incredible. But why not just use the hospital's operating rooms?"

"Well, those are fine for regular surgery, but bionic surgery needs a lot of specialized equipment. It would be difficult to maintain secrecy if we had to move all that equipment and the bionic limbs to the hospital wing."

Oscar nodded his approval as he looked around.

The next room was outfitted with parallel bars, therapy stairs, a gait trainer, and other physical therapy equipment. A large mirror covered one wall of the room. "This is the physical therapy room," Rudy said. "Here is where Steve will learn to use his bionics."

"How long do you think it will take?" Oscar asked.

"Months," replied Rudy. "He's going to have to learn how to walk, how to grasp, all over again just like a baby."

Next to the physical therapy room was a workout room filled with all the latest gym equipment: treadmill, weights, exercise bicycle, and other equipment.

"Once Steve has learned how to use his bionics, we'll move him over to this room. This is where we'll work his bionics and push them to their limit."

"What do you think his limits will be?"

"I estimate he should be able lift up to five-hundred pounds and run about thirty to thirty-five miles per hour."

Oscar smiled. "I can't wait to see that."

Rudy smiled back. "I'll admit it. I can't wait to see it either. Come. I'll show you the last room."

Rudy and Oscar walked to the room across the hall.

"Here's the exam room. He'll need regular checkups and maintenance on his bionics and this room is set up with the special equipment that I'll need to do that. I'll also be able to give him physical exams in this room," Rudy explained. "So that's the end of the tour. What do you think?"

"I'm impressed. I just have one question."

"What's that?"

"I noticed that you don't have any patient rooms."

"Well, since the hospital is in this building, it didn't make sense to have any here at the lab when we could just use the hospital's rooms, like we're doing now. If there ever is a serious situation where we needed Steve here at the lab, we could always use the operating room as a patient room, similar to what we did at Edwards."

"I see. Speaking of Steve, how is our boy?"

Rudy sighed. "The same, unfortunately. He just lies there. Doesn't move. Doesn't talk. Doesn't respond to outside stimuli. But his heart is healing nicely and I want to perform the next surgery in a couple of weeks."

"What surgery is that?"

"Rib replacement. Come. Follow me."

Rudy took Oscar back to the main prosthetics room. He picked up a long, thin, oddly shaped piece of metal off of a table and gave it to Oscar.

"What's this?"

"One of what will become Steve's rib. I need to make four more to replace the ribs that were crushed in the crash. His lungs have healed nicely but they are very vulnerable without those missing ribs."

"It's so light. Are you sure it will protect his lungs?"

"It's made of Vitallium, a metal that has a higher tensile strength than stainless steel or titanium. It also has superior corrosion resistance so it is quite biocompatible with human tissue."

"Fascinating." Oscar handed the metal rib back to Rudy.

"Before you go, Oscar, I was wondering how the background checks were going."

"Ah, yes. I've wanted to talk to you about that. We're done and I've made employment offers to everyone on your list. Everyone has accepted and will be starting in the next two to four weeks, except for Dr. Staton."

"He turned you down?" Rudy couldn't hide his concern.

"No, but he wants to talk to you first and examine Steve before he makes a decision."

"Yes, yes, of course," Rudy replied. "Whatever it will take to get him on the team. We need him."

"Good. I'll set up a meeting for next week then."


	17. Doctor Staton

Rudy waited in anticipation in the reception area of his lab. Finally, a kindly-looking man arrived.

"Dr. Staton, nice to finally meet you." Rudy reached out and shook the man's hand.

"Nice to meet you too, Dr. Wells," the grey-haired man replied. "You work for some powerful people and I have to say that the security around this place is intimidating to a plastic surgeon like myself."

Rudy laughed. "Well, I hope we can make you feel more comfortable, enough to come on board, perhaps?"

"Look, I have to be honest with you, Dr. Wells. Working for a top-secret government agency has never been on my radar as a career path. Nor would I imagine it being the career path of any other plastic surgeon. What I do would definitely interest Hollywood celebrities; but I can't for the life of me figure what your agency would want with a plastic surgeon."

"What were you told, Dr. Staton?" Rudy asked.

"Not much. Just that you were interested in my research on reconstructive microsurgery and had a patient that needed my services."

"Were you told anything about my field of study?"

"No, nothing."

"I see. Well, I'm bionicist, among other things."

"Bionics? I've never heard of that field."

"Bionics is the science of systems that function in a manner characteristic of or resembling living systems," Rudy explained. "You could say it's a very close cousin to cybernetics."

"Cybernetics?" Dr. Staton's mouth dropped open. "Are you creating a cyborg?"

Rudy nodded. "Yes. Now this will be a prototype, but if it is successful, it could open up unprecedented hope for thousands of victims of accidents."

"That's incredible. But you're talking about machines. What could you possibly want with a plastic surgeon?"

"Well, yes, we are talking about machines, but bionics takes it one step further. The limbs won't look like machines. They will look and function like a real arm or leg. There will be no way for a person looking at our cyborg to be able to tell the difference between his real arm and his artificial arm in the way it looks, feels, or functions."

Rudy opened the door to his lab. "Come on in. Let me show something."

Dr. Staton's eyes went wide when he saw the main prosthetics room.

Rudy walked over to a table and picked up a five-inch square of what looked like flexible plastic sheeting. He handed it to Dr. Staton. "Take a look at this."

Dr. Staton took it and looked at it closely. He couldn't hide his surprise. "Why this looks and feels exactly like human skin!"

Rudy chuckled. "It's called plastiskin."

Dr. Staton turned it over. The back was smooth and pale pink and looked like regular plastic. "This is thicker than normal skin."

"And stronger," added Rudy. "The bionic limbs will be covered with that skin and it will match his skin tone perfectly. Our problem is where the plastiskin meets his real skin at the connection points. And that's where you come in, Dr. Staton."

"You want me to hide the scars where his real skin meets the plastiskin?"

"Yes, and also he has regular scars on his body that will need to disappear."

"Regular scars I can do, but you're talking about joining living skin to plastic. I don't know if that is possible."

"It's possible," Rudy assured him. "But we need you to hide that it was done."

"I've never tried anything like that. I'm not sure I can do it."

"Would you be willing to try?"

"I think I'd like to see the patient first before I decide."

"Of course. Follow me."

Rudy took Dr. Staton to the hospital wing of the building. They entered Steve's room. Steve lay on the bed unconscious, hooked up to the electro-sleep machine.

"He's asleep," noted Dr. Staton. "Can you wake him up?"

"I thought for the physical exam it would be better that he be unconscious. That way you could examine him and talk freely."

"I see." Dr. Staton looked intently at Steve's face. "Wait. He looks familiar. I read about him in the paper. That's the astronaut who was in that experimental plane crash."

"Yes, this is Colonel Steve Austin," replied Rudy.

"But the newspaper said he walked away from that crash with only a few scrapes and bruises."

"Yes, well, we had to keep his true condition secret as you can see." Rudy then pulled the sheet off of Steve, revealing his naked form.

Dr. Staton gasped. "Both legs and an arm?" He looked at all the bandages on Steve's body. "This guy has been through hell."

"And he's not done with surgery. Next week he's getting five ribs replaced and there will be more surgeries after that."

"Mind if I take a closer look?"

"Go ahead."

Dr. Staton carefully pulled the large bandage off of Steve's right side, revealing a long jagged pink scar that was almost healed. He gently touched the scar. "This bandage can stay off."

Next, he gently pulled down on the bandage covering Steve's heart. "How long since his heart surgery?"

"It's been five weeks," replied Rudy.

Dr. Staton nodded then pressed the bandage back into place. Next he looked at the feeding tube. "How long are you planning on keeping the feeding tube in place?"

"That won't come out until after all surgery has been done. He'll be under quite a bit so we'll need to keep it in to make sure he gets proper nutrition."

"What about the eye?" Dr. Staton asked.

"It was badly damaged and will be replaced with a bionic eye."

Dr. Staton shook his head. "I don't envy what the Colonel will have to go through to become a cyborg. Now I can definitely help with all these scars. It's going to be a lot of work though. But I don't know if I can help with hiding the connection of the plastiskin to his real skin."

"If you can't do it, nobody can. You're his only hope of coming out of this looking normal and unscarred."

Dr. Staton rubbed his chin in thought. "Okay, I'll give it my best shot. I'll join your team."

"Wonderful! Welcome aboard, Doctor!"


	18. Patient X

It was three o'clock in the afternoon. The hospital staff on duty stopped what they were doing and watched as the tented gurney, carrying the patient in room 224, slowly and carefully was rolled back to his room. A portable ventilator was being rolled on a small cart right next to the gurney. Tubing from the ventilator disappeared under the tenting, connecting the gurney to the ventilator. This was the second time the mystery patient had come back from the operating room since his arrival eight weeks ago. To say the staff was curious would have been an understatement. They had never seen a patient so closely guarded. The tenting on the gurney completely covered the patient. Not even his head could be seen.

The guard at his door made sure that only authorized staff could enter his room. There were only a handful of hospital staff that had that authorization and none of them were talking. Nobody was talking. There was no water-cooler gossip or idle chatting. This was a high-security hospital and everyone knew better than to talk. But they all thought about it. They remembered the staff meeting they had eight weeks ago. They were told that a special patient, simply identified as Patient X, had arrived and that his room would be off limits to most of them. They were used to seeing guards at the front gate of the Colorado complex, but a guard in front of a patient's room was almost unheard of.

To make matters even more fascinating, the director of the agency, Oscar Goldman, had been seen several times entering and leaving Patient X's room. Although Oscar Goldman had an office at the complex and was sometimes seen around the complex, he was not in the habit of visiting patients. But ever since Patient X had arrived, Oscar Goldman had been spending more time than usual at the Colorado complex.

The door to room 224 opened and the gurney carrying Patient X disappeared into the room. How long before he would come out again, if he came out again, was unknown. But he had just gotten out of eight hours of surgery, so they speculated that it would be several weeks.

The new doctor, Dr. Wells, came out of the operating room. He was still in scrubs and looked exhausted. As he walked slowly down the hallway, he pulled the surgical scrub cap off his head and with his fingers tried to comb the hairs that were sticking up. This new doctor was a curiosity. He wasn't known in the medical community, yet he had gotten his own lab. And it wasn't a little lab. No, he had gotten the entire second floor of the South Wing. For what they couldn't fathom because he only had one patient. What kind of doctor only has one patient? They watched Dr. Wells slowly make his way down the hallway, stopping once at a water fountain to take a drink. When he got to room 224, he pushed open the door and went in.

Carla Peterson, the new nurse, came out of room 224 a few minutes later. She headed straight for the supply closet and they saw her come out with her arms full of bandages, tape, IV solution, and other supplies. The other nurses envied this new nurse. She didn't have to attend staff meetings; she only reported to one doctor; and she only had one patient. What a cushy job, they thought. They would have loved to have asked her how she landed that kind of a job, but they didn't dare.

Fifteen minutes later, Oscar Goldman was seen walking down the hall, his long legs carrying him at a brisk pace. When he got to room 224, he stopped and said something to the guard. They couldn't hear the conversation. Then Goldman pushed open the door and walked in.

* * *

"How's he doing, Rudy?" Oscar looked worried as he looked down at the unconscious Steve.

Steve hadn't looked this poorly since he first saw him at Edwards. He was hooked up to the electro-sleep machine. A breathing tube reaching down from his lungs and coming out of his mouth was attached to a ventilator. His chest was covered with bandages and a small tube protruding from his chest was connected to another machine.

"He's stable," Rudy sighed wearily. "He gave us all a scare in the operating room. His right lung collapsed as we were attaching the third Vitallium rib and, as you can see, we had to insert a chest tube into the pleural space. He's been intubated and the ventilator is breathing for him right now. But all five ribs have been successfully replaced so he now has chest wall stability."

"How long is he going to be in this condition?"

"I'm going to keep him unconscious for at least three weeks. This type of surgery makes breathing very painful so it's best to keep him unconscious. The chest tube will probably stay in place for the entire three weeks, maybe longer. And the ventilator will continue breathing for him for as long as he is unconscious."

Rudy turned to Carla. "He's not to be left alone at all. I want someone in this room at all times monitoring him."

"Yes, Doctor," Carla replied.


	19. A Bustling Lab

"You want 20:1 zoom lense capability _and_ infrared vision?" Dr. Wilcox looked at Rudy incredulously. "Are you nuts, Rudy? There's no way we are going to fit all of that in a prosthetic eyeball!"

"That's why I asked Dr. Johnson, our resident neurosurgeon, to sit in on this meeting," Rudy replied. "Now here is what I'm proposing."

Rudy drew a rough sketch of a human head. Then he drew a round circle where the eyeball would be located. "Now we can put a miniaturized thermal infrared detector in the eyeball. That's not a problem. The problem is getting enough length for zoom capability, right? So what if we did this?"

Rudy drew a tube extending from the eyeball to the back of the head. Then he drew a small circle at the back of the head. "The tube gives us the length for zoom capability and this miniaturized computer in the back of the head will control everything and interface with the brain."

Dr. Johnson stared at the drawing for a few moments. "So you're suggesting that we put the tube right through the temporal lobe?"

"Yes," replied Rudy. "But we keep it below the Wernicke area."

"Well, that will help, but we're still risking the area of the brain that deals with memory, hearing, sequencing, and organization."

"Can it be done?" Rudy asked.

"Yes, depending on the size of the tube. But there are risks. The smaller the tube, the better," replied Dr. Johnson.

"Well, with our miniaturization techniques, I think we can get the size down to six to ten millimeters," Rudy replied.

"Six would be better." Dr. Johnson pointed to the circle at the back of head drawing. "Now you're suggesting that the miniaturized computer be placed in the area of the occipital lobe?"

"Yes," Rudy replied. "That's the area of the brain that interprets vision, so it would need to be located there."

"How big do you estimate the computer to be?"

"About 25 millimeters," replied Rudy.

"That's tricky, because I'll have to remove some of the occipital lobe to make room. Now with the one eye already gone, some of the lobe is already useless. But the challenge will be to not remove any sections that will affect his real eye."

"What do you suggest?"

"The only way I will do it is if I can do awake brain mapping. It's the only way I'll be able to test which parts of the lobe affect his real eye and which parts don't. Otherwise, I'm just cutting blind and I won't do that."

"That's an excellent idea," replied Rudy. "Gentlemen, this is going to work. I can feel it in my bones."

* * *

"How is it going, Dr. Staton?"

Dr. Staton looked up from his microscope at Rudy. "Not so good. I've been practicing my techniques with your plastiskin and cadaver skin. Take a look."

Rudy bent down and peered into the microscope.

"As you can see," explained Dr. Staton. "The plastiskin just doesn't respond the same way human skin does."

"Hmm." Rudy thought for a moment. "Let me show you something. Follow me."

Rudy walked over to a table where the frame of the bionic arm was resting. It was hollow as there was nothing inside the arm yet, but the lower portion, up to the elbow, was covered in plastiskin.

"Now I've been testing how we will be able to repair the plastiskin if it is damaged or if we need to do maintenance or repair to the arm." Rudy picked up a scalpel off of the table and made an incision on the forearm. "Now watch this." Rudy rubbed a special adhesive on the incision with a small spatula. Then he took a small laser pen, plugged it into an outlet, and turned it on. Moving a lighted magnifying mirror over the incision, Rudy looked through it as he used the laser pen on the incision.

"That's amazing. You can't even tell where the incision was!" exclaimed Dr. Staton. "But how do you think this will help me?"

"Well, you have a technique that works on human skin and I have a technique that works on plastiskin. What if you combined the two techniques?"

"Fascinating idea," replied Dr. Staton. "You know, if I can come up with a technique that won't damage the human skin, it just might work."

Rudy patted him on the back. "I know you'll figure it out, Doctor."

* * *

This was an exciting time for Rudy and also a hectic one. His lab was fully staffed and buzzing with doctors, engineers, and technicians busy working on their assigned tasks. Rudy was constantly checking on their progress, answering questions, and brainstorming with his team. When he wasn't doing that, he was trying out new techniques and ideas or checking on Steve.

It had been four weeks since Steve's rib surgery and Steve was healing nicely. He was off the ventilator and breathing on his own now. The chest tube had been removed a week ago. There was just one more major surgery left, repairing Steve's fractured pelvis, and Rudy had that surgery scheduled for the morning.


	20. Waiting

Oscar Goldman looked at his watch. It was 11:00 a.m. Rudy Wells and his team had started surgery on Steve four hours ago. Shouldn't they be done by now? How long does it take to repair a fractured pelvis?

Oscar hated waiting and, yet, a lot of his job entailed waiting. Sending his agents out into the field and waiting for the results. Giving the green light to a scientific project and then waiting for its completion. Yes, there was a lot of waiting with being the director of the OSI. Maybe that's why he was such a hands-on director. He liked being out in the field coordinating the work. It was much more preferable to sitting behind a desk all day.

But on days like today, all he could do was sit behind his desk and wait. Wait for the news that Steve had made it through yet another surgery, hopefully. He really shouldn't be worried. He knew he had the best medical team in the country working on Steve; and Steve had made it through much tougher surgeries than this. Yet, it was surgery; and surgery always came with risk.

He put down the report he was reading. He gave up trying to concentrate on it.

Oscar had managed to be at the Colorado facility for each of Steve's surgeries. In fact, Oscar had made his Colorado office his primary office for the indefinite future while Rudy and his team worked on the Six Million Dollar Man Project, that's what everyone involved had started calling it. It was definitely more challenging scheduling his appointments these days and Oscar still had to make frequent trips back to his Washington DC office to take care of business. But it was all worth it to him to be near the action. He knew, of course, that they could manage just fine without him. But Oscar was never one to just sit back and let everyone else do the work. If there was anything he could do to help, even if it was just to facilitate something or offer support, he would be there.

Oscar was no scientist, but he loved science. That love of science coupled with a background in naval intelligence and law had made him the perfect candidate for running the OSI. Oscar had overseen a lot of exciting projects during his time at the OSI, but none captured his imagination more than the Six Million Dollar Man Project. The thought of creating the world's first fully-functional cyborg excited him to no end. He had a hard time understanding Steve's objection to becoming bionic. What man in Steve's position wouldn't want to walk again? Oscar could have gone to any veterans' hospital in the country and there would have been men lining up and begging for the opportunity that Steve was getting. And yet Steve wanted no part of it. That baffled Oscar.

One of Oscar's talents was the ability to size a person up quickly. That ability gave him another talent, the gift of persuasion. Because he was able to size up people so quickly, he could figure out what they wanted; and once he knew what they wanted, he was able to get what he wanted. It was a gift that had served him well during negotiations and peace talks. From reading Steve's file, Oscar had a good idea what Steve wanted and what motivated him. And that's what made Steve's resistance to becoming bionic so puzzling. From everything Oscar read, Steve should have been jumping at this opportunity, and yet he wasn't. Yes, he knew what Rudy had told him about Steve's mistrust of the OSI, but he felt there was something missing…some other reason for Steve's resistance. Of course, Oscar hadn't been able to talk to Steve yet. That was frustrating. But he knew that once he was able to have a conversation with Steve, he would be able to get down to the bottom of what was bothering him.

The phone rang. It was Carla.

"Yes, Miss Peterson." Oscar listened, then, "He's out of surgery? That's great. I'll be down shortly. Thank you."

* * *

Steve was asleep when Oscar walked into the room. Wires from Steve's forehead attached him to the electro-sleep machine. Rudy was standing next to the bed checking the instruments.

"Well that took longer than I thought it would. Is he okay?"

"Yes, the surgery went very smoothly," replied Rudy. "Because we had waited so long to repair his pelvis, it had started to heal in the wrong position. But I was expecting that. We had to do an osteotomy, realign the bone and then reattach it with plate and screws. But it took longer because, while we were in there, I decided to go ahead and reinforce his entire pelvic girdle, which includes the hip bones, with cirosium."

"Why did you do that?"

"Well, we'd have to do it anyway when we make him bionic," Rudy explained. "You see, normal human bones can't handle the heavy lifting and the impact of high jumps that comes along with bionics. If we didn't reinforce them, they would simply break under the pressure. Now, normally I wouldn't have done this until after we have his permission to make him bionic, but I was in there anyway and it didn't make sense to have to open him up twice so I went ahead and did it. It did require opening him up even more to reach all the bone structure, but I can tell you this, he'll never break those bones again."


	21. A Little Conversation

The alarm went off with a loud annoying buzz. Carla Peterson groaned and looked at the clock sitting on her nightstand. The numbers read 6:00 a.m. She reached over and hit the snooze button then snuggled under the covers. She was just starting to drift off to sleep again when the alarm went off again. This time she threw the covers off and made herself sit up before turning the alarm off. She didn't dare hit the snooze button again or else she would be late for work. She walked into the bathroom, splashed some cold water on her face, and brushed her long sandy brown hair into a ponytail. Then she grabbed the jogging shorts, t-shirt, and running shoes she had laid out the night before and got dressed.

From her apartment at the complex to the running track was an eighth of a mile. Three times around the track equaled three quarters of a mile, and adding the last eighth of a mile home, totaled one mile exactly. This was the route she jogged every morning, weather permitting. And the weather was beautiful this morning.

After a cold and dreary winter, spring had finally arrived in Colorado. Getting used to seasons was quite an adjustment for this California girl. She was used to mild winters and warm weather most of the year so she welcomed the warmer weather coming. However, she did have to admit that her present location was much prettier than the California desert where Edwards Air Force base was located. Waterfalls and streams swelled from melting snow runoff and flowers had sprung up everywhere.

A mile jog every morning wasn't going to qualify her for any marathon, but it did help to keep her in shape and gave her time to think. Jogging was the latest fitness craze and at this time of the morning there were always at least a couple of dozen other employees also trying to get a jog in before work. Carla didn't notice but, since she had started jogging, the number of male joggers had also increased. Apparently, word had gotten around among the single males in the complex that a pretty brunette with knock-out legs had been seen jogging at the track every morning.

But this was Carla's time to think and right now she was wondering if she had made the right decision in taking this job. It had been four weeks since Steve's pelvic surgery and with him still being catatonic and her only patient, the monotony was starting to get to her. It was the same thing every day. Give him a sponge bath. Change his IV. Feed him three times a day through the feeding tube. Change his urinary catheter and drainage bag. Take his vitals. Change his bandages. This wasn't quite what she thought the job would be. She was used to being very busy with multiple patients to care for and converse with. Chatting with her patients was one of the more enjoyable aspects of her job. But with Steve there was no conversation. He just lay there on the bed, unmoving and staring at the same thing for hours on end. She felt bad for him and a little guilty. She had taken his hope away from him. Of course, there was no way she could have allowed him to call his parents, but she still felt responsible for the condition he was now in. She only wanted to help her patients, not hurt them.

"Hi, there, mind if I join you." A male voice interrupted her thoughts.

Carla looked up to a tall good-looking man with blonde hair and blue eyes jogging next to her.

The man didn't wait for an answer. "Hi, I'm Jason."

Carla was surprised. All she could manage to say was, "Hi."

"Your name?"

"Oh, Carla."

"Nice to meet you, Carla," Jason said. "I'm an engineer and work in building D on stuff that I can't talk about. What about you?"

Carla smiled. "I'm a nurse and work in building A on stuff that I can't talk about."

"Well, I can see that having a conversation about our jobs is something that will never happen."

They both laughed.

"So how long have you been into jogging?" asked Jason.

"About a year. And you?"

"About a day," Jason replied. He was starting to breathe heavily.

"A day?"

"Yeah, do you think we could stop for a moment before I keel over?" Jason stopped and tried to catch his breath.

Carla also stopped. She was quite amused. "Yeah, it's not a good idea to overdo it on your first day."

"Is that your medical opinion?"

"Yes, and everyone else's medical opinion," she replied nodding her head.

"Well, I figured this was the only way I could meet you."

Carla was surprised at how direct this handsome young man was. Suddenly things were becoming interesting again and she was thinking that taking this job might not have been such a bad idea after all.

Jason walked Carla home and they chatted the whole way.

* * *

The clock struck 8 a.m. just as Carla entered the hospital wing. She breathed a sigh of relief at having made it to work on time. Her encounter this morning had left her a little off balance. She was a bit harried from having to scramble to make it to work on time, and yet she couldn't wipe the grin off her face.

But it was time to face the reality of her job again. She pushed open the door to Steve's room. Steve was motionless and his head was turned toward the window. The silence in the room was deafening. Carla sighed and grabbed his chart to see what his vitals had been during the night shift. Satisfied that they were normal, she noticed that the morning light coming in through the window was shining right in Steve's eye. She walked over to the window and adjusted the blinds.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Carla turned around, startled, to see Steve looking at her.

It took a moment for Carla to find her voice. "Yes…this time of the year is beautiful in Colorado."

"That's right. I'm in Colorado." Steve searched his memory. "How long have I been here?"

"Four months."

"Four mo—!" He tried to digest the loss of so much time.

Carla gave him a few moments then, "What do you last remember?"

Steve thought for a moment. "I had heart surgery. I think." He pulled the sheet away and grunted as he pushed himself up on his elbow. He looked down at his naked torso. An eight-inch long scar ran down the middle of his chest. "Yeah, there it is." He continued to look over his body. Several scars ran across his ribcage. Further down, scars ran down his hip bones and toward his groin. "I don't remember those. What happened?"

"I think Dr. Wells should be the one to discuss that with you."

Steve's face started going white. "I'm weaker than I thought…whew. Dizzy. That came on quick."

Carla was by his head immediately, cradling it in her hand, and pressing him down with her other hand. "Lie back. Please. It will take a while before you regain your strength."

Steve didn't fight her. He let his head sink back against the pillow.

Carla pulled the sheet back over him. "I'll go get Dr. Wells now."


	22. The Psych Evaluation

Rudy came into Steve's room wearing a big smile. "Welcome back, Steve. It's good to see you alert and responsive again. I knew you'd eventually come back on your own."

Steve gave Rudy a worried glance. "Yeah, well, what I'm wondering is where I went."

"Deep into your own mind," Rudy replied.

"My mind?"

"Yes," Rudy sighed. "This isn't going to be easy for you to hear but you had a condition called catatonic depression."

"I was catatonic?" Steve stared off at the ceiling for a moment. "Now I'm a nut case on top of everything else."

"No, you're a survivor, Steve. Let me be the judge of whether you have a chronic mental health condition, okay?"

"I guess this means you want to do an evaluation." It was a statement more than a question and he said it almost automatically. Steve had been required to submit to regular NASA psych evaluations over the years, so getting an evaluation was commonplace to him.

Rudy couldn't believe his luck. He'd been wanting to get Steve on a regular schedule of psych evaluations but because Steve had been fighting him, Rudy hadn't dared to broach the subject. But now it was Steve who brought it up. Rudy jumped at the opportunity. "A short one for now, if you feel up to it?"

Steve sighed. "Yeah, I guess I should find out if I'm crazy."

Rudy pressed the call button near Steve's bed. Carla walked in almost immediately.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Let's set up for a psych eval."

"Yes, Sir." Carla left the room.

A few minutes later she was back pushing a cart in front of her. An orderly was behind her pushing another cart. Both carts carried electronic equipment. Carla pushed her cart over by the two chairs in the corner of the room. "That one goes by the bed," she told the orderly. The orderly pushed the cart next to the bed and then left.

While Carla was busy setting up the tape recorder on her cart, Rudy attached wired electrodes from the alpha wave machine on the other cart to Steve's forehead. He plugged the machine in and turned it on.

"Are we ready?" Rudy asked Carla.

"Yes, Doctor. Ready."

"Now, Steve, you've done enough of these to know the drill so just try to relax and answer the questions truthfully."

Steve nodded. He knew that if he didn't answer the questions truthfully, the machine would pick it up.

At Rudy's nod, Carla turned on the recorder and the spindles started moving the tape through the recording machine.

Rudy spoke toward the tape machine. "This is tape OSIBSAS-1. The date is April 4, 1975. Patient is Steven Austin, male, age 33. Evaluator is Dr. Rudy Wells. Assistant is Nurse Carla Peterson."

"I'm 33?"

"Yes," Rudy nodded.

Awareness washed over Steve's face. "I missed my birthday." He looked at Rudy. "How long was I, you know?"

"Catatonic? Twelve weeks." Rudy was in psychologist mode as he looked at the printout from the alpha wave machine and then observed Steve's reaction. "How does that make you feel?"

"Strange. Like I don't know who I am anymore."

"Do you want to die?" Rudy asked pointedly.

"No…I don't." Steve paused, thinking. "That doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't make sense?"

"I remember wanting nothing more than to die. It was such a strong, compelling feeling. It was all I could think about. But now it's gone. How is it just gone? My situation hasn't changed. I'm still one arm away from being a basket case."

"Well, it didn't happen overnight," explained Rudy. "Your mind shut itself off from the world for twelve weeks because it needed to process what you are going through and it needed to come to terms with it. How do you feel about living now?"

Steve stiffened.

Rudy noticed. "What's wrong, Steve?"

Steve chewed nervously on his lower lip then, "I don't remember evaluations being so uncomfortable before."

"That's because you never needed them before."

Steve's brow lifted quizzically as he looked at Rudy. "But NASA required them."

"Yes, NASA required them but you've always been the picture of perfect mental health, Steve." Rudy chuckled softly. "In fact, I was always bored to death when I had to give you your quarterly evaluation. But things are different now. You've been through a traumatic experience that has affected you deeply. Now you need these evaluations. Now you need to learn to talk about your feelings no matter how uncomfortable it makes you feel. It's the only way you will heal."

Steve rubbed his face with his hand. "How do I feel about living now?" He sighed. "I accept that I'm going to live and I figure I might as well deal with it. But I'm scared."

"What are you scared about?"

"…of the future. How my life is going to change. What I'm going to become."

Rudy glanced at the readout and smiled slightly. Steve was being perfectly honest about his feelings.

"I don't know how I'm going to get through this, Rudy."

"Well, to start with, we're going to have these sessions every week. It will help you through the transformation process."

"Give it to me straight, Doc. What are the chances that it won't work?"

"Well, I have every confidence that it will work. But can I give you a one-hundred percent guarantee? No, I can't do that. There is a chance…mind you it's a very small chance, but there is a chance that it won't work." Rudy touched Steve's hand to comfort him. "You're the first one, Steve. The prototype. And we're venturing out into areas of science that no one has ever gone before. But I want you to know that I'm here for you, Steve, and I'll do everything I can to help you walk and function again just like before."

A single tear streamed down Steve's cheek. "I guess that's all anybody can ask."


	23. Next Steps

"Okay, that's enough for your first day back," Rudy said as he nodded to Carla who turned off the tape recorder and then disconnected Steve from the alpha wave machine.

"What's next?" Steve asked as he wiped the tear from his cheek.

"Well, that depends on how you feel. Your vitals are normal. Do you feel any pain?"

"No. None."

"Good. Your first round of surgery is complete and you've healed nicely," Rudy said. "What I want to do next is get your strength back up. I'm going to have our physical therapist come in here daily and start rehabilitation exercises with you. I'm going to have the catheter removed and have you start using the bathroom. And no more sponge baths. You'll take showers."

"Am I going to be able to do that with one arm?" Steve wondered.

"You'll have help and you'll learn how to adapt. Don't worry," Rudy replied.

Rudy turned to Carla. "Get him a hospital gown please."

"Yes, Sir."

"I'd like to get you back on solid food again," Rudy said to Steve. "Feel like eating?"

"Yeah, that would be great," Steve replied, suddenly realizing he was hungry.

"Carla, get him whatever he wants."

"Does this mean I can get the feeding tube removed?" Steve said hopefully.

"No, we're going to leave that in until you're completely done with surgery."

"When will that be?"

"Well, you've got two more rounds of surgery. We'll start your next round in about four weeks and you should be done with the final round in about fourteen weeks."

"Great." Steve frowned. He was finally feeling good and the thought of having to deal with more pain was disconcerting. "So what's been done already?"

"Let's talk about that tomorrow. I don't want to tire you out too much today."

* * *

Steve savored every bite of the first real meal he'd eaten in months, a medium-rare steak and a tall glass of orange juice. It was awkward eating with his left hand but Carla had cut up his steak for him so all he had to manage was the fork. Carla made sure to take the knife with her when she was done cutting Steve's steak. He wasn't strapped down any longer, but they didn't quite trust him with a knife yet.

* * *

The next morning, Rudy was by Steve's bedside explaining the various surgeries that had been performed on Steve. He had brought a variety of diagrams with him to give Steve a better understanding of each surgery.

"So I have a bionic heart?"

"No, just your mitral valve was replaced." Rudy pointed to where the valve was located on an illustration of the heart he was holding. "It's actually a procedure that's been done thousands of times throughout the world. You have a lot of company."

Steve thought for a moment. "I guess my heart will never be the same."

"You're right. It's better than it was before."

Steve's eyebrow went up in surprise.

Rudy picked up a thin, long piece of metal and handed it to Steve.

Steve examined the piece. "What's this?"

"This is what we replaced your crushed ribs with. It's made of Vitallium."

"So that's why it's so light."

"Yes," Rudy nodded, pleased with Steve's knowledge of the metal. "That piece you're holding will actually go into your bionic arm."

"Strong but lightweight. That makes sense." Steve handed the metal piece back to Rudy. "How many ribs?" He absentmindedly traced the scars on his chest with his fingers.

"Five. Three in front. Two in back."

Rudy pulled out an x-ray of Steve's pelvis and held it up to the light. He pointed to an area of the bone. "Here's where your pelvic fracture was located. Now, because we had to wait so long to get in there and fix it, we had to do an osteotomy."

"What's that?"

"It basically means that we had to re-break your bone because it had started to heal in the wrong position. We then realigned it in the correct position and reattached it with a plate and screws."

Rudy put the x-ray down. "Now there's something else I need to tell you, Steve. While we had you open, we opened you up a little more and reinforced your entire pelvic girdle, including your hip bones with cirosium."

"Why?"

"Well, we already had you open so it made sense to just do it then so that we don't have to reopen that area again later on."

Steve was confused. "Why did you need to reinforce down there?"

"It's part of the process of becoming bionic," Rudy explained. "You see, the normal human skeletal frame can't handle the stresses that come with bionics. Your bones would break if we didn't reinforce them with cirosium."

* * *

"I'm telling you, Oscar, his attitude is completely different since he's come out of the catatonia," Rudy spoke excitedly into the phone. "Now, he's nervous and scared about becoming bionic. That's normal. And there's something else troubling him that I can't quite put my finger on, but I'm sure with continued therapy I'll get to the bottom of it. The thing is he's not fighting me or the idea of becoming bionic anymore!"

"That's fantastic news, Rudy!" Oscar was thrilled to hear some good news for a change. "Do you think he's ready to meet me now?"

"Definitely. I think he's in the right frame of mind now."

"Excellent. Well, I'll be here in Washington for another two weeks, but I look forward to meeting him when I get back."

* * *

That night Steve couldn't sleep. He just stared at the ceiling. His conversation earlier with Rudy kept playing over and over again in his mind. They were already preparing his body for bionics…already preparing his body for bionics. That sent a cold shiver down his spine.

There was no question now what his fate would be. He had been reassigned by NASA and the Air Force. They couldn't use him anymore. But the OSI needed a guinea pig so they sent him here. He had always toed the line and followed orders throughout his career like a good soldier, but never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that his country would order him to become a test subject. This is not what he had imagined for his career. They hadn't asked for his permission. They were just doing it. And the hardest part of all this was accepting the fact that they had that right.

He didn't want to die. He wanted to live, but what kind of a life would he have as an experiment?

Steve looked at the clock. It was 3:51 a.m. He sighed. All this worrying wasn't changing anything. It was just costing him sleep. He may not like what was happening to him, but he knew had to accept it. He had no choice.


	24. Richie Rich

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty!" A too loud and too cheerful male voice said.

The blinds from the window opened and Steve groaned and pulled the covers over his head as the sunshine hit his closed eye.

"Oh, no, no, no," said the voice. "It is time to rise and shine!" A hand pulled down the covers. "How about you open up your lid and let me see that baby blue of yours?"

Steve groaned. He had finally fallen asleep at 4:30 a.m. last night. It was 9:00 a.m. All he wanted to do was sleep.

"C'mon, you can do it," the voice encouraged him.

Steve opened his eye and saw a large black man standing over him. Standing next to the door was Carla, watching and looking very amused.

"There it is! There's that baby blue!"

Steve grimaced. "Who are you?"

"My name is Richie Rich," he replied. "Yeah, my parents had a wicked sense of humor when they named me, but they, unfortunately, weren't rich. Nope. They were dirt poor."

Steve frowned and looked at Carla. "Can you do anything about this?"

Carla tried not to laugh. "Sorry."

"Now you and I are going to be great friends, Colonel," Richie said as he pushed the button to raise the head of the bed. "You know, I'm a big fan of yours! I watched you walk on the moon. That was something else!"

Steve had dealt with fans before, but he had never had one wake him up while he was in bed sleeping. "I think there must be some mistake."

"No. No, mistake, Colonel. I am your physical and occupational therapist. And I am pleased to meet you," Richie said as he extended his left hand for a shake.

"You've got to be kidding," Steve replied, irritated.

"No, I'm not kidding. I want you to shake my hand."

Steve ignored his outstretched hand. "You're my therapist?"

"Yes, I am. I have doctorates in both physical and occupational therapy, and twelve years of experience working with disabled veterans. My specialties are physical and prosthetics rehabilitation. Now, shake my hand."

Steve just stared at him in disbelief.

"Didn't your momma teach you that it's rude to ignore a handshake?"

Steve frowned, extended his hand, and shook Richie's hand.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Colonel Austin," Richie said with a smile. "Squeeze my hand."

"What?"

"Squeeze my hand."

Steve stared at him in confusion.

"C'mon, squeeze my hand!"

Steve was sure Richie had a few screws loose but he did what he was told and squeezed Richie's hand.

"Oh, c'mon, you can squeeze harder than that!"

"You want me to…?"

"Yes, Man! Give it everything you've got!"

"Okay. You asked for it." Steve squeezed as hard as he could.

Richie frowned. "Hmm, looks like we've got some work to do. But don't feel bad. You've been in this bed for quite a while. It's normal to lose some strength."

Carla interrupted. "Well, I'll let you two get acquainted. I'll go get some breakfast for you, Colonel."

Carla walked out the door and Richie leaned over and stared at her as she left.

"Mmm, mmm, that is one fine-looking woman! You made a move on that yet?" Richie asked Steve.

"No! She's my nurse."

"And she's a woman. You still got one good eye. You're telling me you didn't notice the hot momma taking care of you?"

"Well, yes, but no!" Steve was getting annoyed. "Besides, I'm not exactly a prize catch."

"What you talking about? You're the stud who made the top 50 list of eligible bachelors in People magazine! Wasn't you like number nine on the list?"

"Number six, and I wouldn't qualify for that list now," Steve said glumly.

"What? Just because you have a few parts missing? C'mon, you're still a beautiful man. And I've read you're medical chart. You still have the parts that count."

Steve was pissed off now. "Really? You think any woman would want this?" Steve defiantly threw off the covers and lifted up his hospital gown, showing his disfigured naked form to Richie.

Richie was unfazed as he pulled the covers up and covered Steve. "Yes, I do. I've seen a lot worse. Even with all of that, you still won the genetic lottery. But you're too busy feeling sorry for yourself."

The door opened and Carla walked into the room pushing a cart. "Breakfast is here! I hope you're hungry."

Carla placed the tray on the over-bed table and rolled it into place. There was a quiet uncomfortable feeling hanging in the air and Carla noticed it. She looked at Steve who was refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

Richie finally spoke up. "Thank you, Sugar."

"I'm not hungry."

"He'll eat," Richie assured her.

Carla raised her eyebrows. "Good luck," she said and then she left.

Richie lifted the lid off of the plate of food. "Now let's see what we have here."

"I told you, I'm not hungry."

"Now what kind of appreciation is that for the food she brought you? How you gonna get with her when you won't even eat the food she brought you?"

"I'm not getting with her!"

"Uh huh…like I said, Colonel, you and I are going to be great friends. You know why? Because I tell it like it is. And you need somebody like me in your life. And I need you so that I can brag to my momma that I have an astronaut as a friend."

Steve looked at Richie incredulously, then a smile formed on his face and he chuckled.


	25. How to Eat

Steve chased the scrambled eggs around the plate. The plate would move on the table and he would have to put the fork down and move the plate back into place. Some of the egg fell off the plate despite his best efforts. The ham was a whole other challenge. He used the edge of the fork to try to cut it but it was slow and difficult. He finally gave up and grabbed the toast. At least that was something he could eat with his fingers.

Richie sat on the bed the whole time, watching Steve eat. It made him self-conscious. "Are you just going to sit there and watch me eat?"

"Sure am. How else am I going to see where you are having problems? Eat up, Colonel."

Steve sighed and made another attempt at the ham.

"You're right-handed, aren't you?"

"Well, I was."

"Okay, I have some things in my magic bag that I think will help you." Richie walked over to the chair, picked up a large black bag and walked back to the bed, placing the bag on the bed. He began rummaging around in it. He pulled out a rolled-up mat. Unrolling the mat, he picked up Steve's plate, placed the mat on the table, and put Steve's plate on it. "Now, try to slide the plate on the table," Richie ordered Steve.

Steve gave the plate a push but it wouldn't budge. "Silicone?" he asked, feeling the mat.

"Very good, Colonel," Richie replied. "Looks and brains too!"

"NASA used silicone on the soles of our space suits, among other things."

Richie reached into his bag and pulled out a piece of white plastic that was shaped in a half circle. He attached it to Steve's plate. "It's called a plate guard. Give it a try."

Steve attempted to get some scrambled eggs on his fork. To his delight, the eggs didn't fall on the table this time. The plate guard stopped them. Steve was able to easily get the eggs on his fork. Unfortunately, some of the eggs fell off the fork on the way to his mouth.

Steve threw the fork across the room in frustration. "I feel like a damn two-year old trying to learn how to eat!"

"Yeah, and you have tantrums like a two-year old too," Richie replied as he walked over to the fork and picked it up off the floor.

Steve just glared at him.

"Hold on. I have something that might work better." Richie reached into his bag and pulled out a fork.

"Another fork?"

"Ah, this isn't an ordinary fork. It's called a knork! I like to think of it as a beautiful woman."

"A what?"

"See the sides of this knork. They are not straight like a regular fork. Oh, no. They are curved just like a beautiful woman!"

"If you kiss that thing, I'm not eating with it."

Richie handed the knork to Steve. "Try it."

Steve took the knork and scooped up some of the scrambled eggs. This time he was able to get all of the egg into his mouth without any mishap.

Steve looked at the knork. "Such a simple design too."

"And that's not all it does. Try using the edge to cut your ham. Use a rocking motion."

Steve did as he was told and was surprised at how easy it was to cut the ham.

"What else do you have in your magic bag? You wouldn't happen to have my missing arm in there, would you?"

"No, sorry, no arms. That would be in Dr. Wells' magic bag."

Steve sighed. "Yeah."


	26. A Bid for Freedom

Over the next week, Richie worked with Steve a couple of times per day. The sessions were kept very short at first but as Steve got stronger, Richie increased the length of each session. Steve didn't mind the physical therapy sessions. He had been used to working out and keeping in shape before the accident.

It was the occupational therapy sessions that he hated. They were downright humiliating and embarrassing. Grab bars were set up around the toilet and he had to learn how to use them to keep himself from falling off of the seat. A special stool was placed in the shower and he had to practice giving himself a shower without falling off and cracking open his skull. He had to be carried to and from the bathroom and he couldn't take a leak or a shower without having either Richie or an orderly and Carla hovering around nearby in case he needed help. And a few times he did. They were very protective of him but as he got stronger and with more practice, they relaxed and gave him more privacy.

Richie backed into Steve's room carrying a large piece of equipment made of metal pipes. An orderly was carrying the other end.

"Let's set it here for now," Richie told the orderly. "We need to move the bed so that we can put it into place."

Steve looked quizzically at the contraption. "What's that?"

"This, my friend, is a hospital bed trapeze," Richie answered as he and the orderly pushed the bed with Steve in it to the other side of the room.

"Trapeze? What, like in the circus?"

"No, you won't be flying through the air with this trapeze. But you will be able to get yourself in and out of bed with its help and it will help you build your strength."

Steve watched as they pushed the contraption to where the head of his bed had been. A triangle-shaped bar hung down, suspended by a chain.

They pushed the bed back into place. The triangle-shaped bar hung directly over Steve.

"Thanks, man," Richie said to the orderly as he was leaving.

Richie turned to Steve. "Give it a try. See if you can pull yourself up."

Steve grasped the triangle-shaped bar with his left hand and grunted as he tried to pull himself up. It took a considerable amount of effort and he was perspiring but he eventually got himself up in a sitting position. Steve grinned at his accomplishment even as he was panting from the exertion.

"Good. Good. You're getting stronger. You keep working on that and in no time you'll be getting yourself to the bathroom!"

* * *

It had been a week since the trapeze was put in Steve's room and he used every spare moment he had to practice with it. Pulling his own body weight up was getting easier and easier each day.

The spring morning was beautiful. Breakfast had ended an hour ago and Steve was alone in his room staring out the window. He glanced at the wheelchair next to his bed and got an idea. He reached over and pulled the wheelchair closer the bed. Throwing the covers off, he then grabbed the trapeze bar and lifted himself up. He moved his leg stumps onto the wheelchair and then carefully lowered his body onto the wheelchair. He was breathing hard from the exertion but he had done it! Now to get to the window.

Wheelchairs were made for two arms, not one, and Steve realized he would just go around in circles if he only pushed the wheel on one side. He stretched over to his right side with his left arm and pushed the wheel a few inches, and then he pushed the wheel a few inches on his left side. Back and forth, back and forth he repeated this, moving the wheelchair a few inches at a time. It was painstakingly slow but it worked. Eventually he reached the window.

The view of the Rockies was spectacular and included a waterfall and fields covered with wildflowers in the distance. Closer by, Steve could see another large building to his right. On the left were tennis courts and a covered picnic area. The windows of all the buildings in the OSI complex were made of a special privacy glass. People inside could see out but nobody outside could see in. This security feature allowed Steve to enjoy watching all the people walking by but none of them could see him.

Steve sat there for an hour enjoying the view when he was hit with a sudden case of cabin fever. He couldn't handle being cooped up in his room anymore. He wanted to go outside and enjoy the fresh air and immaculately-kept grounds of the complex. It was about thirty feet from the window to the door. He might as well have been a half-mile away. It was going to take forever. But Steve was determined. Turning the wheelchair around to face the door was the easy part. With a quick flick of his left hand on the wheel, the wheelchair was facing the door. Now came the hard part, trying to keep the wheelchair going in a straight line. Back and forth he went with his left arm, moving the wheelchair a few inches at a time. Finally, he reached the door. He needed to get close enough to the door to reach the handle and yet far enough away for the door to open without banging into his wheelchair. He decided that facing his left side to door was the best option. He maneuvered the wheelchair into the proper position and then reached over as far as he could and grabbed the door handle. He opened the door and glanced into the hospital corridor. As he was struggling with trying to keep the door open while turning his wheelchair around and out the door, a very surprised guard was standing in the doorway.

Carla was at the nurses' station where she had clear eyeshot of Steve's room. She heard a commotion and looked up to see Steve halfway out the door and arguing with the security guard. She rushed over and helped the guard push Steve back into the room. She did a quick scan of the corridor. Nobody had seemed to notice. She breathed a sigh of relief.


	27. Meeting Oscar Goldman

"Rudy, why am I being kept here like a prisoner? Why? For heaven's sakes, you've got a guard outside my room!"

"Steve, we must maintain security on this project. You've worked on classified projects for NASA. Surely you can understand that?"

"Yeah, but this time it's different!" Steve paused as he stared out the window from his wheelchair. "This time the project is me."

Rudy glanced at Carla who was standing by the door. Sympathy was written all over her face. Rudy sighed. "Look, I know this can't be easy, but you've been through NASA isolation numerous times. Think of it as just another isolation exercise."

Steve raised his eyebrow. "It's not the same thing."

"I know. But you've just got to hang on for a couple of weeks more until the next round of surgery starts."

"Yeah, that's something to look forward to," Steve replied sarcastically.

"Look, there's someone you need to meet. His name is Oscar Goldman and he is…"

"…the head of the OSI," Steve interrupted. "So I finally get to meet the big boss, the guy pulling all the strings."

"He is looking forward to meeting you. He'll be here this evening. Try to get some rest."

Rudy walked out of the room with Carla. Once they were out in the corridor, Rudy turned to Carla. "It's obvious that this giving-him-space strategy isn't working. I want you to spend more time with him. Talk to him. Keep him occupied. He needs to get his mind off of his isolation."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

Steve was lying in his bed when Oscar walked into his room. He had a broad smile on his face as he stretched out his right hand for a shake. "Colonel Austin, I am pleased to finally meet you. I'm Oscar Goldman."

Steve didn't say anything. He just looked at the hand that he was unable to shake.

It took Oscar a moment to realize his mistake. "Oh, umm, I'm so sorry," he stumbled over the words as he withdrew his hand. "Please forgive my insensitivity."

That got a small smile from Steve. "Come to check up on your project?"

"Well, of course, I've been keeping tabs on your progress and I'm pleased with how well you're doing. But I thought it was time we talked."

"I've got a question for you first. Why me?"

"Why you?"

"Yes, you could have picked a volunteer. Why did you pick me?"

Oscar took his glasses off. "Well, asking a volunteer to risk healthy limbs for this procedure is, frankly…immoral. It made more sense to find a candidate that already had limb loss."

"So, then, why me? I'm not the only guy in the world with missing limbs."

"Because you had the qualifications and circumstances we were looking for. I'm not going to give six million dollars worth of top secret equipment to just anyone."

"Six million dollars?" Steve couldn't hide his surprise.

"Yes," nodded Oscar. "And it will take another half a million to a million per year afterward for repairs and maintenance. So you can see, Steve, we're making quite an investment in you."

Steve was speechless.

"Well, unless there are any other questions, we have some business to attend to," Oscar said as he pulled some paperwork out of his briefcase. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pen, and then he put the paperwork and pen on the overbed table and rolled it over to Steve. "Now, I'll need you to initial here, here, and here," he said as he pointed to the lines. "And you'll sign your full name here," he pointed to the signature line on the last page of the five page document.

"What's this?"

"Feel free to read it, but it basically says that you give us your consent to perform bionic surgery on your person. You agree to follow medical instructions with regard to your recovery and rehabilitation from said surgery. You understand that this surgery is experimental in nature and that there are risks involved and you agree to hold us harmless of legal liability for any injuries or damage that may result from said surgery. You understand that there will be no monetary charge to you for these medical procedures and that the United States government will cover all the costs, including subsequent maintenance and repairs. In return, you agree to pay back your government and the tax payers who funded this by working as an employee of the Office of Scientific Intelligence."

Steve just stared at the agreement. "You've got to me kidding me," he finally said. "I'm not signing this." He threw the agreement on the overbed table and pushed the table away.

Oscar was puzzled. "Steve, we can't go forward with the surgery without your signature on that agreement. The Oversight Office requires it."

"Right. You want to make this appear all proper and legal to everyone else. Look you may be able to fool them but don't think for a minute that you've fooled me. You know you don't need my signature. Just do what you're going to do anyway!"

That outburst from Steve surprised Oscar and then it dawned on him what had been bothering Steve all this time. "Wait, you think you don't have a choice in this?"

"Oh, c'mon! Don't play coy with me! I know Rudy's already started to reinforce my bones with cirosium. You gonna deny that?"

"That was a medical decision Rudy made that made sense to him at the time because he already had you open in that area. But I can assure you that no further bionic surgery will be performed on you without your permission. I'm not here to force anything on you. The last thing I want is to give millions of dollars worth of equipment to someone who doesn't want it. Steve, this has always been your choice."

"My choice? It wasn't my choice to come to Colorado! It wasn't my choice to be locked up in this room without any contact with the outside world! I'm not even allowed to call my folks! None of this has been my choice!"

"And I'm sorry about that. But we couldn't let the outside world, and even your family, know what really happened to you. Because of security reasons, the more people that know about your current condition, the more danger it is to you and the project. But now you're at a crossroads, Steve. You can choose to move forward with the surgery and give yourself the opportunity to be whole again or you can refuse and we'll ship you off to a VA hospital where you'll finish your rehabilitation and you can live on disability and the pensions that you'll get from the Air Force and NASA; and I'll tell you 'have a nice life.'"

The room was silent for a few moments as Steve struggled with this new realization, then, "I get a choice?"

"Yes, Pal, it's your choice."

"What if I agree and it doesn't work?"

"Then you'll be no worse off than you are now. But in addition to disability and pensions from the Air Force and NASA, you'll also get a pension from the OSI. I think that would keep you pretty comfortable for the rest of your life."

"And if it does work, you want to use me as a weapon? I don't want to kill people."

"We're not asking you to kill people."

"Oh, c'mon."

"I think maybe you're confusing us with the CIA or NSA. They're the ones who do assassinations. No, you would work as an agent for the OSI doing missions that require your unique abilities. Because we are a scientific agency, you would also be assigned to work on various scientific projects from time to time. And because of your NASA background, you would be our liaison with NASA. And, in fact, your cover would be as an astronaut with NASA on loan to the OSI as a consultant and you would maintain your status as an Air Force Colonel on reserve duty."

"I'm a pilot. I don't know anything about being an agent and all that cloak and dagger stuff."

"We would train you."

There was silence as Steve processed all this information.

"Steve, there is another option I want to offer you. This project is very important to me and there are very few people I would trust it with. You are one of them. I want you to consider helping me show proof of concept."

"What do you mean?"

"What that means is that you would agree to the bionic surgery and give us a year of your time to do the testing and work out the bugs. At the end of the year, you would be free to go live your life. There are certain restrictions that come along with this, however. Your bionics would be turned down to normal strength and once that is done, it cannot be reversed. Also, you would be required to resign from NASA and the Air Force."

"Why?"

"Because they both require regular physical exams and your bionics would need to be kept top secret. But you would be free to take any other kind of employment that doesn't require physical exams."

"But you said that if I come to work for the OSI that I would still be working with NASA and the Air Force. I'd still have to take their annual physicals."

"No, as an employee of the OSI, you would be under my jurisdiction and I have the authority to substitute an OSI physical exam for a NASA and Air Force one."

"I see. So unless I work for you, I have to completely give up a career I love."

"There's another way of looking at it. Unless you come to work for me, you'll never have that career again."

Steve looked at Oscar but didn't say anything.

"Look, I know this is a lot to think about and I don't expect you to give me an answer right this minute. I'll give you forty-eight hours and then I'll be back for your answer. In the meantime, here's the proof of concept agreement for you to read also." Oscar reached into his briefcase, pulled out another agreement, and placed it next to the other agreement on the overbed table. "I'll see you later." Oscar then walked out the door.

Steve was left alone in his room staring at the two documents.


	28. The Decision

Naked, except for a towel covering his buttocks, Steve was lying on his stomach on a portable massage table. Long gone were the bandages that had once covered the ends of his stumps and his shoulder joint. Scarred skin now covered those areas. The only bandage he now wore was the one covering his left eye.

Strong, but gentle, hands massaged his back. Steve was completely relaxed. "Mmm…Richie, my compliments on giving the best massages. I'm going to miss them."

"Well, that won't be for quite a while. I'm not going anywhere."

"Yeah, well I am. Tomorrow night I give my answer to Mr. Goldman and then I imagine I'll be shipped off to a VA hospital shortly thereafter."

"What are you talking about?"

"I've accepted my body and what's happened to me and, well, it's time to move on. I don't know what I'm going to do to keep myself occupied, but I'll figure it out."

Richie's jaw dropped. "You telling me that you're not going through with the bionic surgery?"

"That's right. I'm ready to get out of here and start living my life again, whatever that may be."

"Are you nuts?!" Richie hollered at Steve. "Have you completely lost your mind!?"

"Look, isn't this what you want your patients to do? To accept their bodies? To accept what happened to them? To go on living? Well, that's what I'm doing!"

"Yeah, but most of my patients don't get the opportunity to walk again dropped in their laps! Do you know how lucky you are? Do you know how many of my patients would kill to get the opportunity that you're getting? Don't throw it away, man!"

"You mean the opportunity to go through more surgery? The opportunity to be a guinea pig? The opportunity to have someone pulling my strings for the rest of my life? No thanks. I've made my mind up. I'm done with this place."

* * *

It was after dinner and Steve was resting comfortably in his bed when Rudy walked in. His jaw was tight and there was determination in his eyes. "Steve, we need to talk."

"Rudy, I'm done talking. I've already heard it from Richie this morning. I don't need to hear it from you too."

"Well, you're going to hear it. If I have to get Carla in here with the recorder and alpha wave machine, I'll do it. But I'd prefer this conversation be between the two of us."

Steve sighed.

"Steve, I don't understand. Don't you want to walk again?"

"Of course, I want to walk again, Doc. But I've got to be realistic. You can't guarantee that this is going to work."

"No, I can't give you a guarantee but isn't it worth taking the risk? Look, we've known each other quite a while and I'd like to think we can be straight with other, so I want you to tell it to me straight. Do you doubt my expertise as a doctor and scientist?"

"No, no." Steve shook his head. "I just…" He didn't know how to say it. "I just can't go through any more of this."

"I don't believe that for a minute. You've accomplished some amazing things in your life, Steve. You've done things most men can only dream of. You've walked on the moon! You've risked your life numerous times testing experimental aircraft! Now you're telling me that you can't handle this?"

"Those things weren't really that big of a deal," Steve said softly.

"Not that big of a deal?"

Steve couldn't hide his frustration. "Don't you see, Doc? Those things were easy for me. I've breezed through and have succeeded at almost everything I've ever tried! But this…this I can't breeze through."

"So you're giving up because it's hard? Steve, you're not giving yourself enough credit."

"I'm giving myself the exact credit I deserve! I can handle going to the moon and testing planes. But this happens to me and I fall apart. For god's sake, I wanted to kill myself, Rudy! I was catatonic for twelve weeks! Does that sound like a person who can handle this?!"

"It sounds like a person who is human, Steve. We're all flawed—even you. It sounds like you have a fear of failure."

Steve looked quizzically at Rudy. He had never been told that before. "Fear of failure?"

"Yes, it can sometimes happen to highly intelligent people. Everything they do, they succeed at. Everything comes easy to them. So they get a little too comfortable with their success and aren't willing to branch out and challenge themselves. Everyone sees them as a success and they are afraid to ruin that image and let themselves look like a beginner again. Hey, I get that. Did you know that I take ballet classes once a week?"

"Ballet classes?" Steve looked incredulously at Rudy.

"Yeah, and you know why I take those classes? Well, in part it's for the exercise, but it's also because I suck at ballet. I really do. I look like a complete fool. I have absolutely no grace or coordination."

Steve chuckled. "I'm imagining what you must look like in a tutu."

"Funny." Rudy smiled. "But it keeps me humble and reminds me that I'm not good at everything."

"I don't know, Doc. I used to bat tennis balls with a girl in high school that always beat me. I don't think that's my problem."

"No, your fear of failure is more about the fear of not being in control of your emotions. You've always been the most cool-headed, unflappable person I know. I think that's what contributed to making you so good at your job. You always had nerves of steel when you climbed into those cockpits. But remember when I told you a couple of weeks ago at our psych evaluation how you needed the evaluations now because of what you've gone through?"

"Yeah."

"Well, what you've gone through was so traumatic that it caused you to lose control of your emotions. And now you're scared—scared of losing control of them again. Look, Steve, you can choose to leave here and spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair. But I can guarantee you that you'll always wonder if you could have walked again if you had just said yes. Or you can take that chance and say yes. I can guarantee you that it's going to be the hardest thing you've ever done. There will be days when you'll be angry, frustrated, depressed, in pain, wondering if you made the right decision. But you'll come out of it a better man, Steve. Your mind needs bionics just as much as your body does."

* * *

The next morning Rudy came into Steve's room to check his vitals. "Your vitals look excellent. You're definitely strong enough for the next round of surgery if that's what you want." It was sort of a question, but not quite. Steve wasn't saying anything about what his decision would be and that was driving Rudy a bit crazy.

As Rudy started to leave, Steve finally spoke up. "Doc, do you trust Oscar Goldman?"

Rudy couldn't hide the surprise on his face. That was not a question he was expecting. "In short, yes," he replied. "But I didn't at first."

"What changed your mind?"

"Dr. Wilkinson, a colleague of mine who is a good friend and one of very few that I trust with my research, had shown my bionics project to Oscar. That's one reason I said yes to Oscar at first, especially since I had to give Oscar an answer immediately. He was having you shipped to Colorado the next morning. But that evening I began to have doubts so I called Dr. Wilkinson. He told me that he had worked on several projects for Oscar over the years. He told me what kind of man Oscar was—a bureaucrat who always tries to do the right thing, an honorable man in a business that isn't always honorable, a compassionate man with a heart of gold." Rudy nodded his head. "In the months since I've been here I've gotten to know Oscar and my friend was right, Oscar is a good man."

* * *

That evening Oscar walked into Steve's room. Steve was lying in his bed waiting for him.

"Good evening, Colonel. Well, you've had forty-eight hours to think about it. What's your answer going to be?"

"I've decided to go ahead with the bionic surgery, but I have a couple of conditions."

"Oh?"

"The first is I get to decide what assignments I'm going to take. If an assignment doesn't make sense to me or goes against my values, I have the right to refuse it. The second is if at any time I decide I don't want to play secret agent anymore, I get to leave with the same terms as your proof of concept choice."

"I can agree with your second condition, but I can only agree with your first condition as far as OSI assignments go. Because you'll also technically be working for NASA and the Air Force, if they want you for something, well, I have limited influence with them. Also, I have bosses that I have to answer to and if Washington gives us orders, well, we both have to follow those, Pal."

Steve thought for a moment. "Okay, fine."

Oscar smiled. "Great. Welcome aboard, Colonel Austin. It looks like I'll need to make some changes to our agreement. Let me do that this evening and I'll have the paperwork to you in the morning." Oscar started to leave then stopped. "Oh, and one more thing, we'll need someone to attest your signature since I understand that you are right-handed. Who would you like to witness the signing?"

"Rudy Wells," Steve replied.

"Okay, good. I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

The next morning Oscar walked into Steve's room with Rudy following. Rudy had a big grin on his face.

Oscar pulled the agreement from his briefcase and placed it on the overbed table along with a pen. Then he rolled the table over the bed to Steve.

"Here are where the changes you requested are," Oscar said as he turned the pages and pointed to specific paragraphs. "I'll need you to initial here, here, and here, and sign your full name on the last page."

Oscar and Rudy waited as Steve looked over the document carefully, especially paying attention to the changes that had been made. When satisfied, he grabbed the pen with his left hand and signed his initials. Then he turned to the last page and signed his name, Steven Austin. His handwriting looked like a kindergartener's signature even though he took his time.

Rudy looked like he was going to cry as he next took the pen and signed his name as the witness. Afterward, he sat on the bed and grabbed Steve into a hug. "Thank you" was all Rudy could manage to say.


	29. The Dating Game

Manitou Springs, a resort town just outside of Colorado Springs, had the most charming downtown Carla had ever seen. "This was a wonderful idea, Jason. I haven't been outside the OSI facility since I arrived!"

Jason flashed a smile at her. "I thought you might like this place."

They walked at a leisurely pace down the sidewalk, past quaint shops and restaurants. It was early Saturday evening and the street was filled with both locals and vacationers. Occasionally they would get the odd glance.

"I'm afraid we're a bit overdressed," Carla observed as she looked at their attire. Jason was wearing a dark blue suit with a tie and she was dressed in a grey spaghetti-strapped dress that matched her eyes and skimmed her curves. Sparkly dangling earrings and strappy high-heeled sandals completed her attire. Her long sandy brown hair was up, showing off her long creamy neck. Everybody else was dressed casually.

Jason laughed. "Not for where I'm taking you next."

She smiled. They had only been dating for three weeks but so far it was going well. She really liked Jason and was curious to see where this relationship would go.

Jason pointed off into the distance. "Look at the view of Pike's Peak from here. Isn't it beautiful?"

"Wow!" Carla exclaimed.

Just then a small store caught the corner of her eye. The sign on it read Theo's Toys. "Look, Jason, a toy store! Let's go take a look!" She took his hand and pulled him across the street.

Jason gave her an odd look. "Umm, is there something you haven't told me?"

Carla laughed. "No, I don't have any children hidden away anywhere. I promise."

They went inside the store.

"Then why are we in a toy store?"

"It's for a patient."

"How old is this patient?" Jason had never heard of children being hospitalized at the OSI facility.

Carla just smiled since she wasn't allowed to divulge that information. "I'm looking for games…something to help pass the time."

When they got to the game aisle, Carla began rummaging through the games.

"How about this one?" Jason held up Chutes and Ladders.

Carla giggled and shook her head. The thought of Steve playing Chutes and Ladders struck her as funny.

"Oh, this might work." She spotted a Scrabble game.

"Oh, okay, so we're talking about an older kid," Jason said, fishing for more information, which Carla wasn't giving.

Jason noticed a deck of cards. "How about cards? Can't go wrong with cards and you can play a lot of different games with them."

Carla frowned, thinking about how Steve wouldn't be able to play cards with only one hand.

Jason noticed the frown. "I guess cards are out."

Carla shook her head sadly. "Yeah, that won't work."

Jason pulled out another game. "Okay, it sounds like you have a brainy kid who may have some physical challenges. How about this?" He held up a chessboard.

Carla's face brightened. "Yes, I think that will work!"

As Carla was paying for the games at the checkout counter, Jason noticed a Bigfoot action figure nearby. He picked it up and laughed. "You know, when I was a kid I actually believed he existed."

* * *

The drive from downtown to the restaurant was short. Jason pulled his sports car in front of a stately old manor.

Carla's jaw dropped when she saw it.

"Welcome to Briarhurst Manor Estate, milady."

"Who lives here?" Carla asked.

"Nobody anymore. But it was built in 1876 by the founder of Manitou Springs, Dr. William Bell. Now, it's a restaurant and on the list of the top fifty most romantic restaurants in the US."

"Well, it is beautiful," Carla said, awed.

Jason got out of the car and walked over to the other side, opening the door for Carla.

Once inside they were quickly seated. Jason couldn't help notice the approving glances of other men in the restaurant when they saw Carla. He was proud to have such a beautiful woman on his arm.

During dinner they chatted about hobbies, sports, and politics, being careful not to discuss their jobs.

Carla's curiosity finally got the best of her. "I know we're not supposed to talk about our jobs, but I'm curious what made you decide to work for the OSI."

"I guess that's a safe subject," Jason replied. He thought for a moment. "I think it has to do with the projects. The OSI is on the cutting edge of technology and science and to be involved in that was and is very exciting to me. What about you?"

"Well, I love nursing. That's all I've ever wanted to do. I've never thought about cutting edge science and those sorts of things but when a doctor I greatly admire asked me to be head nurse on a project that, frankly, blew my mind, I had to say yes."

Jason thought for a moment. "So you're not on the regular nursing staff of the hospital?"

"No, and I've probably already said too much," Carla replied nervously.

"No, most of us work on projects here. You're not giving anything away," Jason assured her. Jason looked troubled though.

"What is it?" Carla asked.

"Well, I know I'm jumping to conclusions here but I'm having a problem reconciling a nurse who obviously cares enough for her patients to buy them toys with someone who is okay with experimenting on children."

"It's not what you are thinking," Carla replied. "Trust me on that, okay?"

Jason smiled at her. "Okay."

* * *

It was close to midnight when Jason dropped off Carla at the hospital. She told him that she wanted to drop off the games so she wouldn't have to bring them back in the morning and that she would walk home. He wanted to wait for her but she insisted that he go so he gave her a quick kiss and then left.

Carla entered Steve's room. The room was dimly lit but she could make out Steve's still form on the bed. Walking quietly over to a nearby cabinet, she opened it.

"Wow."

Carla spun around in surprise to see Steve appreciatively looking her up and down.

"What are you doing awake?"

"Couldn't sleep. Apparently, since there isn't that much of me left, I don't need as much sleep." Steve couldn't take his eyes off Carla. "Hot date?"

Carla smiled. "You could say that."

"Oh."

Finally, Steve noticed the bag Carla was holding. "What's in the bag?"

"A couple of games for us to play. Do you like Scrabble and chess?"

"I've played chess but I've never played Scrabble. How about we play it right now?"

"Now?"

"Yeah, well, I'm bored. I've been staring at the ceiling for hours."

Carla put the games in the cabinet and shut the door before walking over to Steve. "You need to get some sleep. We'll play a game tomorrow."

"Just one game?"

"No. Now go to sleep," Carla replied firmly. "Goodnight." Then she walked out the door.

Steve was disappointed that Carla didn't stay. He wanted her company more than he wanted to play a game. After his escape attempt last week he noticed that she had been spending more time with him. He didn't mind. The company was welcome even though he suspected they were trying to keep him occupied. But seeing Carla all dressed up made him look at her in a new way. She wasn't just his nurse. She was a beautiful woman. With a pang, he realized just how much he missed women. He usually always had a date or two lined up. He couldn't remember ever having a dry spell this long.

He thought about all the women he ever had in his life. He remembered his first crush in the third grade, Jaime Sommers. He had thought she was the cutest little blonde he had ever seen. Their families became good friends so he got to spend a lot of time with Jaime. They grew up together. He remembers spending hours batting tennis balls to her. She got really good and was always beating him. He remembers how they dated during his senior year of high school. Boy did he ever get teased by his friends for dating a freshman. But then he left for college and they lost touch. Jaime went on to become a tennis pro and was doing quite well last he heard.

Then he met Karen in college. He was the college football hero and she was a pretty cheerleader. They dated, fell in love, and got married shortly after graduation. Life was good and Karen had been so excited when the Kansas City Chiefs came calling, wanting to recruit Steve to the pros. But Steve had his sights set on the moon and he turned the offer down. Karen had been furious with him for that decision. She couldn't understand why he would turn down such a lucrative opportunity for some crazy dream of going to the moon. But Steve had a plan and he knew he needed to become the best pilot he could be. He wanted to learn to fly a helicopter so he signed up with the Army and flew a helicopter gunship for a year in Vietnam. It was during that year that he received the divorce papers from Karen's lawyer. He was shocked and devastated. He thought that she would eventually come to understand how important his dream was to him but she didn't and she wanted out. The day after he received the divorce papers he had to fly a mission. He tried to put the divorce out of his mind and concentrate on the mission but his mind wasn't where it should have been that day and his helicopter was shot down. He was lucky. Nobody died and he only broke a few ribs. It was during his stay at a military hospital that his body and spirit recovered. He had lost Karen but he was determined to go on with his plans to become an astronaut, so after his recovery, he transferred to the Air Force Test Pilot School at Edwards Air Force Base.

After test pilot school, Steve met Barbara at a friend's party. They hit it off, started dating, and before long were making plans to marry. It was during this time that Steve was rising through the Air Force ranks and NASA took notice. When NASA offered him the chance to go through astronaut training, he jumped at the chance. His dreams were starting to come true. Unfortunately, the rigors of NASA training left very little time for their relationship, and Barbara, feeling abandoned, broke off the engagement.

For the past few years, he hadn't been in a serious relationship, although he had dated regularly. He loved women and wanted to find the "one" and have a permanent relationship but he hadn't found a woman who could handle his demanding schedule.

Now, as he looked down at his broken body, he realized that he may never find the "one." Even if he looked whole after surgery, how would a woman feel about making love to a man who was as much machine as human? Letting out a sigh, he berated himself for feeling sorry for himself.


End file.
